The Railroad Recalibration
by phantagrae
Summary: My idea of how Sheldon's train journey might have gone. There are 9 chapters to this story, but the story is complete and all chapters will be published at once. Only one chapter, #5, has a mild M rating, otherwise, there's nothing to be wary of. A million thanks to my super beta, FoxPhile!
1. Chapter 1

Sheldon stepped away from the ticket counter and made his way back to sit in the waiting area, extremely pleased that his previous bench was still empty and he could sit in the same place as before. He was a little dismayed that he had to wait until the wee hours to board his train, but his only other option would have been to wait until tomorrow afternoon and he didn't want to have to wait that long. His departure time was only a matter of hours away and as keyed up as he felt, he knew he wouldn't fall asleep before then, even though it was already well past his usual bedtime.

He took a moment to read through his travel documents, quickly memorizing the route information for his next stop and his transfer to another train. He'd made the decision for the first leg of his trip partly because of departure time and partly because of the route, but had chosen the next segment because it was a train route he'd never been on and it was going far away.

Making a mental list of items he would purchase in the morning when he arrived in Emeryville, California, he pulled out his laptop and went online to look up hotel and bus information. He didn't know anything about Emeryville other than that it was a stop on the Coast Starlight train route, and the only reason he was getting off the train there was to change trains and ride the California Zephyr all the way to Chicago, though he already planned to get off in Denver, just to take a break.

Sheldon checked the time on his laptop and decided he would need to purchase a few things for the night, so he reluctantly left his bench in search of the shops he'd seen near the ticketing office. In the small twenty-four travel shop, he located the things he would need: a packet of single-use mini-toothbrushes, a bottled soda, and some snacks. He figured he could buy a proper set of toiletries once he got to Emeryville and had a proper bathroom in his hotel in which to clean up. For now, one of the mini-toothbrushes would work for tonight and the others in the pack could be used further down the line.

He'd never gone on any journey on such a whim before. He always had everything he needed when he traveled because he always had all trips strictly planned down to the smallest detail. He found it slightly distressing to be without his usual things and to be forced to perform his usual nightly routine in such unusual circumstances. But having made the rash decision to leave so suddenly and without any real plan as to where to go, he found it appropriate to have to improvise in the moment. Was he punishing himself or teaching himself a new level of spontaneity? He was not a spontaneous person, by any means, but in this moment he was finding that he could find ways to cope.

His empty stomach rumbled, reminding him that he had left without eating dinner, so he opened a packet of gummy bears and entertained himself by sorting through them and eating them according to color—white ones first, yellow ones next, and so forth, saving his favorites, the green ones, for last—eating slowly in order to help pass the time until his one a.m. departure.

When it was close to midnight, having finished the gummy bears and a granola bar, he used the men's room, washed his hands and face, and then set about scrubbing his teeth with the tiny toothbrush, using its curved, pointy end in lieu of floss. Once he was as clean as he could manage under such circumstances, he went out to await the announcement calling him to board the Coast Starlight to Emeryville.

* * *

He settled into his coach seat, stowed his shoulder bag at his feet and reclined his seat. He had purchased a "Comfort Kit" in the Lounge car and he set about using it to make himself comfortable for the remainder of the night—inflating the little neck pillow, shaking out the blanket, donning the earplugs and eyeshade. He was grateful that he did not have a seatmate for this leg of his journey and he prayed that no one would sit next to him at any of the upcoming stops before he reached his destination.

The trip up the coast to Emeryville wouldn't be too long, but it would be long enough to get a good night's sleep. Suddenly he was very tired and missing his pajamas and his comfortable bed, longing for a calming cup of warm milk. With that wave of self-pity washing over him, he finally gave into mental, emotional and physical exhaustion.

* * *

As the train slowed in its approach to the Emeryville station, the coach attendant came and gently shook Sheldon's shoulder.

"Sir, we'll be pulling into Emeryville in a few minutes," the older gentleman said. "I believe that's your stop."

"Thank you," Sheldon replied, clearing the sleepy gruffness from his throat. He yawned and scrubbed at his face, feeling slightly disoriented and muzzy-headed as he squinted into the bright morning sunlight pouring into the train car.

He gathered his things and smoothed his hair with his fingers as he waited for the train to stop. He was already anticipating ducking into the station restroom first thing. He needed desperately to use the toilet and even though he loved trains, he still had a rule against relieving himself onboard a moving vehicle whenever possible.

As he exited the restroom, he made his way outside and found the bus line that took him to his hotel, where he checked in, took a luxuriously long shower, then went downstairs to eat an early lunch.

Back up in his room, he took out his laptop and went online to search for nearby shopping and a bus route to take him there. He found a Target store in the area and he figured he could get pretty much everything he would need for now.

He decided to make a phone call to President Siebert's office at the university to officially request some time off. Because of his recent discussions regarding his request to change his field of study and the impasse they had reached, Siebert was more than willing to allow Sheldon to take as long as he needed and they agreed on a 6 week sabbatical. Sheldon wasn't sure he'd need that long, but it gave him some leeway in deciding when to come back.

He also called his mother, trying to let her know he was traveling without going into too much detail and without actually lying to her, something he'd never been able to do. He didn't want her to try to talk him into going back to Pasadena and he didn't want her telling him to pray about his troubles.

Calling Amy was another matter. He considered it, but the thought made him nervous and he decided to put it off. She'd be at work right now anyway, and he felt it would be better to talk to her in the evening when he wouldn't distract her from her research.

Truthfully, he wasn't sure what he would say to her. He had stormed out of her apartment in such an upset state that he had to think hard to remember the actual conversation. Everything that had happened seemed blanketed in a thick emotional fog. Anger, frustration, fear? He wasn't sure how to categorize what he had been feeling, as he usually considered only what he had been thinking when analyzing encounters he had with others.

He shook his head to clear it. He would decide what to say to Amy later. Right now he had to go shopping. By himself.

* * *

Sheldon pushed his shopping cart through the Target store, first going through the toiletries aisles, then the clothing section where he picked up some fresh underwear, a couple of colorful t-shirts and a pair of pants. Despite this morning's shower, he felt filthy because he was wearing the same underwear and clothing he'd worn the day before. He planned to change clothes—and take another shower—the minute he got back to his room. He also stopped by the luggage department and picked out a small toiletries bag and a medium sized duffle—large enough to accommodate his purchases, but not too large to carry on board easily.

His last stop was in the grocery aisles where he picked out a few more small packaged snacks and drinks to carry onto the train over the next few days. While he would be having meals and could get some snacks on the train, being able to choose exactly what he wanted ahead of time gave him some comfort and a sense of security and control. He was already dealing with the fact that he couldn't keep to his usual daily schedule. Friday night was usually the night for Chinese food and vintage video games. While he could probably find a Chinese restaurant nearby, it wouldn't be the same as the restaurant they usually ordered from. And while he did have several games on his laptop, it just wasn't the same as being able to choose from his large library of games at home. And he would have to play by himself.

He took a deep breath and chose a few items before heading for the checkout lines.

* * *

Back in his hotel room, he quickly showered and changed clothes and used the plastic laundry bag offered by the hotel to separate his dirty clothes from his new clothing. He was planning to do his laundry once he arrived in Denver Sunday evening, and figured he had just enough clean clothes to make it there.

He spent the rest of the afternoon watching a little television, and trying not to think. Although he had set off on his journey in order to clear his head so that he could think, he found that he didn't want to think about anything just yet. Maybe his head wasn't quite clear yet. He was still struggling with his new environment, which was as much a change as those he had been facing at home.

But at least this change was one of his own choosing. And it involved trains. He was already anticipating the leg of his journey from Emeryville to Denver—the changing landscape, the journey through the mountains, the movement of the train. It was easier and more fun to think about trains than to think about his life back home.

At some point, he dozed off and awoke in the early evening. It was just about twenty-four hours since he last spoke to Amy. It was almost exactly a day since he stormed out of her apartment, on the verge of tears over the building pressures around him.

String Theory

Leonard and Penny

Amy hinting at wanting to move in

The loss of his place of refuge at the Comic Book Store

He wanted to talk to her, but didn't quite know exactly what he would say. Still, he felt more calm and relaxed than he had felt all day, so he pulled out his phone and hit the first speed-dial selection.

"Hello? Sheldon?" Amy began as she answered the phone.

"Hello, Amy," Sheldon replied. His voice suddenly failed him as his mouth went dry. He quickly moved over to the sink and poured himself a glass of water.

"Are you all right, Sheldon?" Amy asked, a little anxiety coloring her tone.

"I'm fine, Amy, thank you," he replied when he'd found his voice again. "Um…Amy…I…I wanted to say…"

"Yes?" Amy prompted. "What is it?"

He froze.

He couldn't quite grasp what her mood might be. As much as he liked her and as suitable a match for him as she had always seemed to be, he was often baffled when it came to her emotional state. How was she feeling tonight? Sad? Angry? Hungry?

He decided to simply say what he needed to say.

"I'm sorry I left so abruptly, Amy," he said in a rush. "I'm sorry if I may have hurt your feelings."

"Thank you, Sheldon," she said more easily. Her voice lightened a little. "Are you okay? Where are you?"

"I'm fine, Amy," he continued. Though he was still nervous, it was good to hear her voice. "I'm in Emeryville, just up the coast, near San Francisco."

"I see," she replied simply.

"Um…I'll be leaving tomorrow for Denver. I'll call you tomorrow night if I can. I'll be on the train overnight and I'm not sure what the phone reception will be like. I'll be traveling on the California Zephyr, going through the mountains…" He could feel himself on the verge of babbling about the train, so he simply stopped talking.

"Okay," she responded.

"Are you at home?" Somehow he wanted to know. He was picturing her face and suddenly wondered what outfit she was wearing tonight and what she was doing.

"I'm visiting Leonard and Penny this evening," she answered without elaboration.

There was a moment of awkward silence between them.

"Amy," he began, "Are you mad at me? You're not talking very much."

"I'm fine," she answered. "I'm not mad at you. I just don't know what to say right now."

"Okay," he replied, unsure what to make of her comments. But she had said she wasn't mad and he wanted to believe her.

"Well," he went on, "I just wanted to check in and let you all know that I'm okay. I'm just trying to sort out a few things, okay?"

"Okay," she said again, her voice losing its cold edge and beginning to sound a little more fragile.

He was running out of things to tell her and he was becoming uncomfortable. He didn't want her to get upset. He certainly didn't want her to get mad at him, or worse, to start crying.

"Well, it's getting late and I need to eat dinner and get some sleep so I can be ready to catch the train tomorrow morning," he said, figuring it wasn't exactly a lie. It was an easy way out of the conversation, anyway.

"Okay, Sheldon," she said. "Thanks for checking in. Talk to you tomorrow?" Her voice had certainly softened now.

"Yes, of course," he reassured her.

"Oh...okay. Bye."

Sheldon stared at his phone for a moment, wondering if she was being truthful when she said she wasn't mad at him. It was so hard for him to read people's emotions in person, let alone over the phone, and sometimes Amy's feelings were the hardest of all for him to figure out. Maybe it was a girl thing. Or maybe it was a girlfriend thing. He didn't quite understand it completely, but in the past four years he had found that there was indeed a difference.

Whatever the case, he decided he would take Amy at her word and assume that she was not angry with him. At least then he'd be able to sleep.

He made his way downstairs to the restaurant to eat dinner, deciding that trying to find a Chinese restaurant in a strange town was simply too risky for his digestive system. It would be a very bad thing to be trapped on a train if he began to experience any kind of gastric distress. He chose something simple and mild from the menu and ate with his phone on the table, reading about the areas he would see from the train during his journey tomorrow.

On his way back upstairs, he saw something in the hotel's gift shop window that stopped him in his tracks. He promptly went inside and purchased it. It was perfect.

Once back up in his room, Sheldon scheduled a wake-up call and set about sorting through his clothes for the morning. He plugged in his electronics to charge overnight, and then brushed his teeth. He hadn't bought any pajamas at Target, partly because they didn't have exactly what he wanted, and partly because he didn't know how they would fit into his standard pajama rotation once he got back home. So he climbed into bed in his underwear and fussed with the cheap, thin hotel pillows until he felt somewhat comfortable.

He lay on his back for a while, inhaling the stale, flat air of the room, listening to the heavy silence, broken only by the occasional hum of the air conditioner kicking on.

He wanted his own bed and his own room and his pajamas. But the thought of home brought with it all the issues he had run away from.

Purposefully making his mind blank, he clutched the blankets tightly, rolled over onto his side and curled up as tightly as he could, and finally fell asleep.

* * *

In the morning he was upset but not surprised that he couldn't move his bowels. Travelling, stress, and not being able to follow his usual meal schedule were each enough, individually, to disrupt his bodily functions. At this point, his body was in as much turmoil as his mind.

He continued on with his shower, put on fresh underwear and stood in front of the mirror to shave. But as he stared at his reflection, something caught his eye. He hadn't shaved in about forty-eight hours and the shading of stubble on his cheeks and jaw seemed to change the shape of his face. It was an interesting effect and he decided he would keep it for now.

Leonard's comment about Sheldon riding the rails like a hobo came to mind. If he were going to emulate a rootless hobo, perhaps a beard would be fitting. For as long as he could stand it, anyway.

He dressed and packed his things, took one last look around the room to make sure he had everything, then made his way downstairs.


	2. Chapter 2

At the train station, Sheldon paused on the platform to take a picture of the California Zephyr, gleaming in the sunshine, then boarded the train, allowing the sleeping car attendant to show him to the little "roomette" he had reserved for this leg of the journey. He arranged with the attendant to have his meals delivered to his room, allowing himself the most privacy possible on the train, then took great delight in arranging his things around the tiny room. He had a beautiful window through which to watch the passing scenery, a comfortable seat which would convert into a bed, and most importantly, his own private toilet.

There was a shared shower outside his room, but he figured he could forego a shower until he got to Denver. He had no desire to share a shower with total strangers. Sharing a shower with Leonard involved enough compromise. As he settled in his seat and waited for the train to set off, he contemplated the idea of having his apartment back home entirely to himself. Living room, kitchen, bathroom—all to himself.

Without Leonard in the bathroom, he wouldn't have to worry about making sure that Leonard stood the proper distance from the sink or toilet, squeegeed the shower when he was done, and cleaned toothpaste and shaving cream residue out of the sink. Not having to share the bathroom was by itself almost worth being all alone in the apartment.

Without Leonard, he could turn the second bedroom into a home office and spread his whiteboards out and not have to worry about them getting in the way in the living room. He could put his desk in there, with his laptop, and maybe even a second television. And he could expand his comic book collection, as well.

In the living room, he could still have his friends over for dinner, movies or video games, but have the added luxury of sending them all home at the end of the evening. And if he and Amy chose to have date night at his apartment, he wouldn't have to worry about Leonard or Penny getting underfoot. He and Amy could drink tea in the kitchen in peace.

He would have the whole kitchen to himself! Only the cereals that he liked, the refrigerator stocked with only the food that he liked. He wouldn't have half the space taken up with Leonard's lactose-free milk and cheese and other foods that only Leonard liked to eat.

He could have it all to himself. All alone. Everyone would go home at the end of the night and he'd be alone in his Fortress of Solitude. If he didn't want to invite anyone over, he could order the food that only he liked without having to take anyone else's tastes into account.

It was definitely an option to consider.

But he'd never lived alone.

While he was in college and graduate school, he was too young to be on his own. His mother had driven him to campus every day and had even temporarily moved out to California with him while he worked on his graduate degrees. When he turned eighteen and was legally able to live on his own, his mother had helped him find a roommate. Of course, his roommate arrangements were repeatedly unsuccessful until he'd met Leonard. With Leonard he had found not only a roommate, but ultimately a real friend.

And now Leonard was going to leave him.

Just as he arrived at that thought, the train lurched and began to move forward. The excitement of a new train journey pushed all other thoughts from his head for a moment.

He spent the morning looking out at the passing scenery, letting it calm his mind and body, and alternatively making notes in a document he had decided to call "Sheldon's Odyssey", chronicling his journey and the various notable sites and cities along the way. He drew on the information in the travel brochures he had picked up at the train station as well as his own observations. It was a simple way to occupy one part of his mind while he could feel another part still churning away over the dilemmas that had driven him from his home.

He eventually ordered lunch and relished the quiet and privacy of his room. Would it really be such a bad thing to live alone?

The only thing that gave him pause was the idea of night time. While he enjoyed solitude, when he wanted it, he had become used to Leonard being there, even when Leonard spent the night across the hall with Penny. It was ridiculous to imagine that Sheldon could not function on his own, that he needed Leonard to be there.

Still, Sheldon did sleep better when he knew Leonard was on the other side of the wall.

Though Sheldon had grown up with an older brother and a twin sister, he'd never been particularly close to either of his siblings. They had never understood him and he'd had a difficult relationship with each of them in turn. He was convinced that if it hadn't been for his mother, his brother George, Jr., would have sold him to a passing circus caravan. And Missy was always playing tricks on him.

Going to college when he was eleven, no longer having to endure the foolishness of other children, had been a blessing. He had learned to function in isolation, even though his mother drove him to and from campus every day. He had loved their long commute each day, and he had loved being allowed to tell her all about everything he had learned, even though he was sure she didn't understand him at all.

He was used to isolation. But being alone was quite another matter. One that he didn't want to think about any more today.

He finished his lunch and set out for the Lounge Car to stretch his legs and get a different view of the passing scenery. He came across a man sitting alone at a pair of chairs in the somewhat crowded car.

"Excuse me," Sheldon began. "Would you mind if I joined you? There aren't any other empty seats."

"Sure," the middle-aged man replied, looking up from his magazine. "Go ahead."

Sheldon looked out the window for a moment, then turned to his fellow passenger.

"Have you ever travelled by train before?"

The man looked up at him briefly before returning again to his article. "No."

"I love trains," Sheldon said, feeling joy rising up in him again for the first time in days. Words came out of his mouth in a rush.

"This train, the California Zephyr, was named for the original passenger train route operated by the Chicago, Burlington and Quincy Railroad, Denver and Rio Grande Western Railroad, and Western Pacific Railroad. It was inaugurated on March 19th, 1949, with five vista dome cars and four sleeping cars."

The other man was now staring at him, his head tilted to one side.

Sheldon returned his gaze, breathless in being able to begin to share the train knowledge that had been building up in his mind since he'd purchased his tickets.

"Would you like to know more?"

"No," the man replied curtly. He held up his magazine. "I'm trying to read."

"Oh," Sheldon replied, his voice faltering a little. His mouth worked silently as he thought through a few possible responses, none of which seemed likely to induce further conversation. As the man continued to stare impatiently at him, Sheldon felt the color rising in his cheeks. He finally pressed his lips together and turned to look out the window again. He wished his friend and fellow train-enthusiast Eric was here.

A seat opened up on the other side of the car, a few feet away and Sheldon made his way to it. A child was kneeling in a nearby seat, looking out the window as they approached a tunnel. His mother sat in a seat beside the boy.

"This is Mount Judah," Sheldon began, indicating the terrain outside. "We're approximately 7000 feet above sea level."

The boy looked at him, but did not reply, then turned to look again out the window. His mother smiled apologetically at Sheldon, but did not say anything as the train passed through the tunnel.

Sheldon fidgeted in his seat, but kept silent.

"What's that lake?" the boy suddenly asked him, pointing ahead as they emerged on the other side.

"Oh, that's Donner Lake," Sheldon enthused. "That's where the infamous Donner Party became stranded in the winter of 1846. There were 87 people to begin with, but only 48 survived. Some of them resorted to cannibalism."

"What's can…can…na…ba…li…sum?" the boy asked.

"They ate each other," Sheldon said simply.

By now the mother was frowning at Sheldon.

"Come on, honey," she said, taking her son by the hand. "Let's go find your dad and go back to our seats. It's almost time for our stop."

"Oh," Sheldon persisted. "You're getting off at Truckee? That town was named after a Paiute chief, Trukizo, father of Chief Winnemucca…"

"Thanks," she replied curtly, hurrying down toward the end of the car.

Sheldon sat alone and looked out the window until he saw a sign marking the California/Nevada state line. Reno would be the next stop and he didn't know what sort of people might board the train in that town. He needed to use the restroom and clean up for dinner, so he made his way back to his room and entertained himself with making notes in his journal and playing a few video games.

After dinner, the train pulled into its next stop and Sheldon took advantage of the strong cell phone reception to place another call to Amy.

"Hello?" she said, answering after just one ring.

"Amy?" he began. "It's me."

"Where are you?"

"I'm on the train. We just stopped in Winnemucca, Nevada. We'll be pulling out again in a few minutes, but I'm afraid the cell phone reception might be spotty later tonight."

"I see," she replied.

"How are you, Amy? How did you spend the day?" He didn't want to talk about himself just now and he knew she wouldn't want to hear about the train.

"Oh, um…" She stammered a little. "I just did some housekeeping, laundry, the usual Saturday stuff."

"Are you doing anything tonight?" He pressed the phone closer to his ear.

"I'm getting ready right now to go to the movies with Penny, Bernadette, and Raj's new girlfriend, Emily."

He could hear that she was moving around her apartment. Was she getting dressed? He both did and did not want to think about that.

"What movie are you going to see? Something fun, like 'Captain America'?"

"Sheldon, you cannot be serious," she said, the familiar gentle disdain in her voice with which she always dismissed the kinds of movies he liked.

He knew exactly the expression on her face.

"What are you seeing then?" he teased. "Some chick flick?"

"We're going to see 'Maleficent'," she said firmly. "It's not a chick flick!"

"Amy," he said, "it's a child's fairy tale. It's the story of Sleeping Beauty!"

"It looks like it's going to be a good movie. Besides," she continued, "we didn't want to see the slasher movie that Emily first suggested."

Sheldon frowned and nodded, as if Amy could see him.

"What do you think of Emily?" he asked, happy to be having a seemingly normal conversation.

The train began to move. It was the first time Sheldon was reluctant to feel a train journey get underway.

"Oh, I think she's fine," Amy continued. "Excuse me a moment, Sheldon," she said. "I need to put on my lipstick."

Sheldon almost dropped the phone. He swallowed several times before he could speak.

"Why are you wearing lipstick? You're not going out on a date, are you?" He sat up straight and his left knee began to bounce.

"Sheldon," she said, audibly smacking her lips together. "A woman can wear lipstick for other reasons. I like the way it makes my mouth look."

"Well…okay," he finally said.

The way it made her mouth look…

"I'm going to have to go in a minute, Sheldon," she said, a hint of reluctance in her voice.

"Yes, me, too," he replied. "The train is underway and I might be out of range soon."

He looked down at his lap, plucking at imaginary lint.

"Um…well…you girls enjoy yourselves at the movies," he said quietly, all the energy gone out of him at the thought of having to end the conversation.

"You take care, Sheldon," Amy answered. "Are you going to be comfortable, sleeping on the train?"

"Yes," he replied. "I have a roomette…a private room." Ordinarily, he would have told her all about it, but now he could only picture her grabbing her jacket and keys, slinging her purse over her shoulder, standing impatiently at her door, waiting for him to stop talking.

"Oh, that's good," she said, sounding genuinely happy.

"Well," he continued quietly, "I guess I'll let you go. Say hi to everyone for me."

"I will," she said simply. "Goodnight, Sheldon. Get some rest."

"Goodnight, Amy," he replied, keeping the phone to his ear until he was sure she'd ended the call.

The sun was setting outside his window, turning his room into an oasis of light in the inky darkness. He stared out the window at nothing until the attendant came to transform his room for the night.

Sheldon set about brushing his teeth and preparing for bed, purposefully trying not to picture Amy's lips.


	3. Chapter 3

In the morning, Sheldon was glad that he couldn't seem to remember what he'd dreamed about. He had a feeling he might have dreamed about Amy, but he didn't want to dwell on that. The motion of the train had rocked him into a deep sleep, like a baby in a cradle, and his dreams must have been lost in that depth. Even now, if it weren't for the bright morning light streaming in his window, he could have stayed forever in the cocoon of his bed. He was warm and comfortable, drowsy and calm.

But now he had to urinate, so he flipped the covers back and got up, missing his pajamas, robe, and slippers as he stepped into the tiny bathroom.

The train crossed the Nevada/Utah state line during the night, so he lost an hour while he was sleeping. He double-checked his watch and the clocks on his phone and laptop to make sure everything was synchronized, then ordered his breakfast.

As he ate, he made mental notes of the terrain, including when they crossed over into Colorado, then later pulled out his laptop to update his travel journal. He made a quick note on the entry for Saturday.

"Amy went to the movies with Penny, Bernadette, and Emily."

He stared at the blinking cursor for several minutes. Should he add any more personal thoughts? It's not as if anyone else would read this. Unless, of course, it might someday be included as part of his memoirs, or in a posthumous biography. Such things happened. In the end, he left the simple statement on its own and went back to updating today's entry.

He took advantage of good internet access at the regular station stops to find and book his hotel room in Denver and to look up information about activities in the Denver area. They apparently had a nice zoo, and it seemed like a pleasant way to spend a few hours.

As the countryside slipped by, Sheldon turned to working on his stalled appeal to the university. He hoped they could see reason, or that he could simplify his own language to the point that the simpletons on the board would finally grasp the importance of his research.

He took a break for lunch, then spent some time once again strolling through the train to stretch his legs and get a change of scenery. Before he knew it, they were approaching Denver and he returned to his room to pack up and get ready to disembark.

It was evening when the train arrived in Denver and Sheldon set about finding a taxi to take him directly to his hotel. After checking in, he went out to eat at a McDonald's he'd seen near the hotel. Though McDonald's wasn't where he usually ate, he was craving a bacon cheeseburger.

"Can I help you?" the pimply teenager behind the counter intoned, not sounding like he really wanted to help.

"Yes," Sheldon began. "I'd like a barbecue bacon cheeseburger, but I'd like the barbecue sauce, bacon, and cheese on the side, please."

The teenager stared at him. "Um, I don't think we can do that."

"Of course you can," Sheldon remarked. "You sell a barbecue bacon cheeseburger. Just put the ingredients I mentioned on the side."

"You want a barbecue bacon cheeseburger?"

Sheldon frowned at him.

"I just said that," Sheldon said in exasperation. "But I want the barbecue sauce, bacon, and cheese on the side."

"So you want a hamburger?"

"I want a barbecue bacon cheeseburger," Sheldon insisted, his voice rising in pitch and volume. "Maybe you should fetch your manager as you don't seem to be able to grasp simple serving instructions."

"Do you want fries and a drink with that?"

Sheldon stared at him.

A slightly older pimply teenager joined the first boy at the register.

"Is there a problem, sir?" the second boy asked, with a slightly more respectful tone.

"Yes," Sheldon grated. "I would like a barbecue bacon cheeseburger, but with the barbecue sauce, bacon, and cheese on the side. I would also like fries and a diet Coke." He could feel heat rising to the tips of his ears. "I trust that order is not too complicated for one of even your obviously limited education to comprehend."

The older boy pushed the younger one aside and began poking at the register, one eye on the obviously fuming patron before him.

"Yes, sir," he said quickly. "Right away, sir!" He moved off quickly and began to put the order together.

"That will be six dollars and sixty-eight cents, sir," the first boy droned.

Sheldon shoved his credit card at the boy.

* * *

The burger ultimately wasn't as satisfying as Sheldon hoped, as he sat in McDonald's on a plastic bench, chewing his food, trying to ignore the sports program that was yammering away on the TV behind him. The burger was something of a sloppy mess to put together exactly the way he wanted it, and the end result hardly seemed worth the effort.

He sighed and crumpled his napkin into a wad and tossed it onto the serving tray. He rose to empty his tray in the trash receptacle, then took his soda with him as he made his way back to his hotel, a sudden fatigue coming over him. He needed to call Amy and get ready for bed. He had plans for the morning and had to get an early start, and he still needed to do his laundry.

Once up in his room he washed his stubbly face and stared at himself in the mirror for a moment. He definitely looked different with a bit of a beard. Would Amy approve? Probably. Maybe. He wasn't sure. But he was keeping it for now.

It was a change, but one that he could control. If he decided he hated it, he could shave it off whenever he wanted. No one could make him shave or not shave. He could control this aspect of his life.

He brushed his teeth and set his things in order for the morning, found his phone and sat on the edge of the bed to call Amy.

The phone rang several times then went to voice mail. Sheldon frowned as he listened to Amy's recorded voice.

"You have reached Amy Farrah Fowler. I can't come to the phone right now. Please leave a message."

Where would she be at this hour on a Sunday evening? It was nearly eight o'clock in Pasadena.

At the tone he stammered out his message.

"Amy…Amy, where are you? I…I…I was just checking in. I'm in Denver. I…I guess I'll try you later. Goodbye." He ended the call and stared at his phone for a moment, then pressed a different speed dial button.

"Hey, Sheldon!" Leonard answered brightly. "How ya doin', buddy?"

"Hello, Leonard," Sheldon replied distractedly. "I'm fine. Do you know where Amy is? I got her voice mail."

"Yeah, she's here," Leonard said. "I guess she turned her phone off. Do you want to talk to her?"

"What's she doing there? Is there a party going on? I hear music," Sheldon went on, his brow furrowing.

"We're having a little get together for Emily," Leonard explained. "She and Raj seem to really be hitting it off and Amy suggested we invite her over so she could get to know everyone a little better."

"I see…" Sheldon didn't know what to think. He didn't like parties, and he was glad he wasn't being subjected to this one, even though he thought that in his brief encounter with her, Emily seemed like a nice enough person. Still, he found himself feeling…feeling something. He wasn't sure what. Jealousy? Not quite. Loneliness? Not quite. Like an outsider? He'd been an outsider all his life.

"Do you want me to get Amy?" Leonard prompted.

"No…No…" Sheldon said distractedly. "I don't want to take her away from the party. Just tell her I called and that I'm in Denver and that I'm fine. I'll call her tomorrow night, I guess."

"Okay, buddy, if that's what you want," Leonard answered gently. "I'll let her know you called."

"Thanks, Leonard," Sheldon replied sincerely. "Say hi to everyone for me. Goodnight."

"I will, Sheldon," Leonard answered. "Goodnight."

Sheldon ended the call and tossed his phone on the bed.

He sat still for several minutes, picturing Amy moving around the living room in his apartment, talking to Penny and Emily and all the others. Drinking wine, laughing, enjoying herself. Without him.

He turned on the TV while he plugged his phone and laptop into their chargers, then called the front desk to set up his wake-up call for the morning. He finished getting ready for bed, then got under the covers and stared at the TV with disinterest.

Amy was having fun. Without him. It wasn't that he expected her to be sad or to stay home alone. It was just…he wanted to be having fun with her. Even at a stupid party.

He turned off the TV and the bedside lamp and closed his eyes, still picturing Amy at the party.

* * *

In the morning, Sheldon rose early, showered, dressed and made some phone calls.

The University of Chicago and the University of Illinois at Urbana/Champagne both had strong physics departments. If he couldn't work things out with President Siebert and the board back home, he wanted to prepare for the possibility of moving to a different university program in order to pursue his newly chosen field of inflationary cosmology. He wasn't sure what kinds of grants might be available, but he knew that both these universities had been interested in him when he was an undergrad and had tried to recruit him away from CalTech at one time. Perhaps he could generate some leverage to be used with Siebert, or perhaps he could even find a position out in the Midwest.

There were many other issues involved in such a move, but Sheldon was determined not to think too far ahead at this point. For now, he was simply setting up an in-person meeting time for the University of Chicago and a Skype interview for the University of Illinois, since his train wouldn't go near that university until late at night.

With his appointments scheduled, he packed his things and went downstairs to eat a quick breakfast and check out of the hotel. Then he took a taxi back to the train station and arranged for a locker for his luggage until his departure time that evening.

With that taken care of, he rode the bus out to the Denver Zoo. He'd studied the zoo's website while on the train on Sunday and was sorely disappointed to learn that they had no koalas, but he had made notes as to which exhibits he would visit and planned to spend the majority of his time in the primate area.

It was fine and cool for a summer day and he enjoyed strolling through the exhibits, pointedly avoiding the reptile house, making mental notes and taking pictures of things he wanted to include in his journal and to share with Amy. Maybe he would email his observations to her tonight. Or save them to discuss with her in person.

As pleasant as the outing was, though, Amy's absence was keenly felt. She was the only one who enjoyed the zoo as much as he did and he missed their usual conversation about animal behavior.

He saved the primate exhibit for last and found a seat on a bench from which he could comfortably see most of the smaller monkeys. He chuckled at their antics at first and found himself about to say something out loud to Amy before remembering that she wasn't there. He was surprised at the sting of sudden tears. He glanced quickly around him before surreptitiously swiping at his eyes and nose.

Who cries in the monkey house? Pull yourself together, Cooper, he scolded himself.

But the monkeys were active and their behavior was the very sort of thing Amy would typically enjoy explaining to him.

Golly, he missed her.

He quickly wiped his eyes one more time and left the exhibit to find the snack bar, seeking solace in a late lunch. He purposefully avoided a repeat of last night's barbecue bacon cheeseburger debacle.

After a quick trip to the gift shop, he made his way back out to the bus stop and returned to the train station, hot, tired, and sadder than he wanted to admit. It was the first time he could remember being unhappy after a trip to the zoo.

When his evening departure time approached, he retrieved his luggage from the locker and stood impatiently on the platform. Denver hadn't been as pleasant a stay as he had hoped and he was eager to get back on the train.

Soon the train pulled into the station and Sheldon allowed himself the pleasures of his deep love of trains—the sound of the brakes, the clatter of the wheels and the lumbering sound of the sleek, powerful locomotive pulling past him.

He breathed deeply and prepared to board.

* * *

Once ensconced in his private room, he ordered dinner and settled in pulling out his phone.

The phone rang twice and then Amy spoke.

"Hello, Sheldon!" she said cheerily.

He inhaled sharply, surprised at how her voice cheered him.

"Hi, Amy," he said, a smile spreading across his face.

"Leonard told me you called last night," she continued. "I'm sorry I missed your call."

"Yes," Sheldon replied. "Leonard told me you all were having a party for Emily and that you'd turned off your phone."

"It wasn't off," Amy explained. "I was expecting to hear from you, so I left it on, but the music was kind of loud and we were playing some games, so I guess I just didn't hear it ring."

"Oh," Sheldon said simply. "Um…how was the party?" He didn't really care, but he had suddenly forgotten whatever he had intended to say to her.

"It was nice," Amy continued. "She's a very nice girl and she and I have a lot in common. She's very sweet to Rajesh and she seemed to get along with everyone. I think she's going to fit in nicely with our group."

"I see," he replied, not caring exactly what she said, but just happy to hear her voice.

"Are you okay?" she suddenly asked. "You're very quiet."

"Um…I'm fine," he answered. "I'm a little tired. I went to the zoo this morning."

"Oh, how nice," she replied pleasantly. "Did you have fun?"

"A little," he said a little more brightly. "Unfortunately, they did not have any koalas, but I did spend some time in the primate area. I think you would have enjoyed it."

"I'm sure I would have. I'm sorry about the koalas, though."

"I missed having you there to tell me about the monkeys," he said shyly.

Amy was silent for a moment.

"I missed you last night," she said quietly.

They said nothing for a moment, but listened to each other's presence.

The train began to move, breaking the spell. There was a knock at his door.

Sheldon took a deep breath.

"Amy, the train is leaving and my dinner is here. I'm afraid I have to go," he said, rising to open the door for the attendant.

"Okay," Amy replied with a sigh. "Have a good night."

"Good night, Amy," he said. "I'll call you tomorrow."

He ended the call, then sat down to eat his dinner alone.


	4. Chapter 4

After dinner, Sheldon set up his laptop and reluctantly returned to his appeal document. He read and reread it, and just wasn't quite satisfied. He closed the document and created a new document where he began to outline the points he intended to make in his discussion with the department heads in Chicago. He wanted to make sure they understood what a fine asset he could be to their programs, and he also wanted to make sure they could offer him what he needed—an opportunity to do research in the field of inflationary cosmology, along with grant money to support that research.

He hadn't told Amy, or anyone, about his scheduled interviews. He wasn't sure how he felt about it, himself. While the two schools he was considering had fine physics departments, moving to the Midwest would be an even greater upheaval. But if they would let him study what he wanted, then it was at least one step in the right direction. Siebert and CalTech were only offering him a dead end.

Still, he would be leaving his friends behind. And what about Amy? Would she come with him or break up with him, if he decided to move to Chicago?

That was too awful to contemplate before bedtime.

He finished his interview notes, then got ready for bed, calling the room attendant to set up his room for the night.

He tossed and turned as the train slipped from Colorado into Nebraska.

* * *

In the morning, he ate breakfast as the state of Iowa rolled past his window. He moved his watch another hour ahead and considered how he'd spend his afternoon in Chicago. He needed a more formal look for his interviews. He was not going to buy a sports coat, but a dress shirt and tie would be appropriate. He also needed to find an appropriate gift shop. Perhaps the campus bookstore would suffice.

After lunch, the train pulled into Union Station in Chicago and Sheldon spent quite some time taking pictures of the beautiful old terminal and the other trains that were coming and going. He set aside all thoughts of physics, girlfriends, living arrangements, and any kinds of decisions, and simply looked at trains. It was glorious.

At last he made his way to the street and hailed a taxi to take him to his hotel. After checking in, he asked the clerk if she could recommend a nearby department store where he could buy a shirt. He had a quick meal in the hotel restaurant, then headed out to do his shopping.

* * *

Sheldon examined the folded dress shirts on the shelf, looking for his size and a color that he liked. He found a couple of options, but couldn't decide between the two.

He pulled out his phone.

"Hello," Amy began. "Is that you, Sheldon?"

"Hello, Amy," he said, pleased to hear her voice.

"Are you okay?" She sounded a little concerned. "Are you on the train?"

"No, I'm fine," he replied. "I'm in Chicago."

"Oh," she said, her voice calming a little. "I was concerned because you're calling so early."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Sheldon said, realizing the mistake he'd made. "I didn't consider the time difference. I hope I'm not interrupting your work."

"No, it's all right," she assured him. "I'm not really busy just now. What's up?"

"Well," he continued, "I have a bit of a conundrum and wanted your input."

"Oh, of course," she said easily. "How can I help you?"

He imagined she was smiling, judging by her voice, and he smiled in response.

"I'm purchasing a dress shirt and I'm trying to decide between two colors. I wanted to get your opinion on which one would be best."

He placed the two shirts in front of him on the display table.

"Oh," she replied simply, her tone flattening a little. "Why are you buying a dress shirt?"

"I'm going to be meeting tomorrow with the physics department heads from two schools out here. If the board at CalTech won't let me change my area of research, I may be forced to consider transferring to another university."

"You'd do that?" Amy asked.

Sheldon faltered a little. Would he really transfer? He took a deep breath.

"If I have to, Amy," he said with a firmness he knew was only partly sincere. "If I am to have any integrity as a scientist, I have to put my research first." He gulped several times and hoped Amy couldn't hear it over the phone.

"I see," she said simply. "Um…so what's this about a shirt?"

He took a deep breath and went on more calmly.

"One is a sort of pale green and the other is light blue."

"Well, you have a very nice light green shirt," she said matter-of-factly. "Go ahead and get the blue one."

"Thank you, Amy," he said with a smile, taking the blue shirt from the table.

"Have you chosen a tie to go with it?" She continued.

"Not yet," he answered, moving toward a display of ties.

"Look for a dark blue tie, maybe with narrow light stripes," she continued.

He sorted through the ties until he found one he thought fit the bill. He laid the tie across the shirt and took a picture with his phone and sent it to her.

"I've sent you a picture," he said. "Tell me what you think."

After a moment she replied.

"That's fine, Sheldon. I'm sure you'll look fine for your meeting."

"Amy," Sheldon began. "Do you not want me to go through with these meetings?"

"Sheldon," she said evenly, "I think you need to figure out what it is you want."

He stood there in the department store with his mouth open, blinking rapidly as he tried to understand what she meant.

"Well…um…" he stammered. "Right now I want to be somewhere where my work will mean something and…well…I don't know what else I want."

"It's okay," she reassured him. "You have to have all the puzzle pieces before you can put them together properly."

"What does that mean?" He took his phone from his ear and stared at it, as if the answer would appear on the screen.

"Let me say it a different way, Sheldon," she replied. "You have to gather data before you can come to any conclusions."

"Um…yes…of course…I know," he stammered. "I…I…"

"Don't worry about it just now, Sheldon," she insisted. "Look, I've got to get ready to leave now, so I'm going to let you go, okay?

"Okay…" he said distractedly. He began to walk absently toward the check-out counter.

"Good luck with your interviews."

"Thank you," he said automatically. He found himself in front of a cashier and he stared stupidly at her.

"Are you ready to check out, sir?" the cashier prompted.

He looked down at the phone, realizing that Amy had already ended the call.

"Um…yes, please," he replied, shaking his head to clear it as he took out his wallet.

* * *

In the morning, Sheldon showered and then stood in front of the mirror, contemplating his thickening beard. It was still barely more than stubble, not quite a week's worth of growth. He decided that if he were to make a good impression, he should at least trim his beard and make it look like he had grown it on purpose. With that done, he dressed in the shirt and tie Amy had helped him pick out, then went downstairs to take a taxi to the University of Chicago.

On campus, he made his way to the office of Dr. Creasey, head of the physics department. The professor's assistant led Sheldon into the inner office and introduced him.

"Dr. Creasey," she began, "this is Dr. Sheldon Cooper, your ten o'clock appointment."

"Ah, Dr. Cooper, so nice to meet you," the large man enthused, taking Sheldon's reluctantly offered hand and shaking it vigorously. "I remember you as a boy—a very, very bright boy."

"Yes, thank you," Sheldon said, surreptitiously wiping his palm along the seat of his pants.

"Won't you sit down?" Creasey indicated the chairs arranged around a small conference table in the corner of his spacious office.

"Thank you," Sheldon repeated, pressing his lips together nervously, eager to get the point of his interview.

"As I recall," Creasey continued, "we wanted very badly for you to come and pursue your graduate studies here in Chicago. Would you like some coffee? Linda, could you bring us some coffee?"

"I don't drink coffee," Sheldon interjected. "I wouldn't mind a cup of tea, though."

Creasey looked at him for a moment, but never stopped smiling. "Linda, would you find some tea for Dr. Cooper?"

"Yes, sir," Linda replied, hurrying out of the room.

"Dr. Creasey," Sheldon began, wiping his clammy palms on his pant legs, "I'd like to get to the point of why I'm here, if I may."

"Surely," Creasey replied, sitting back and crossing his arms across his large chest.

"I seem to have reached an impasse with my field of research at CalTech," Sheldon began, "and have been unable to convince the board there to allow me to change the focus of my research."

"I see…" Creasey tried to put in.

"Please, sir, if I may continue," Sheldon said firmly. "I would like to switch from string theory to focus on inflationary cosmology and I am considering the possibility of continuing my research here at your fine institution."

"I see…" Creasey began again.

"That is, of course, providing that your facility has the needed equipment and the available grant money."

"Well…"

"As well as additional faculty capable of assisting me or supporting my research," Sheldon finished.

"Dr. Cooper…ah, here's Linda with your tea," Creasey began, happy for the minor interruption. "Now, while we do have people working in the field of inflationary cosmology, I'm sure we would be happy to have someone of your reputation join our program. I'm sure there are many ways you could contribute to our team."

"Team?" Sheldon put in, his left eyebrow climbing upward. "Dr. Creasey, with all due respect, I don't work as part of a team. I have my own research."

"Well, I thought…"

"I am sure your school would be happy to have me working here once I win the Nobel Prize. That would indeed be a feather in your cap."

"Well, Dr. Cooper," Creasey began firmly, sitting forward and leaning on the table, "we'd certainly be happy if you do indeed win a Nobel Prize, but…"

"Dr. Creasey, please," Sheldon said, sensing he wasn't getting through. "I am a highly-intelligent, highly respected theoretical physicist and I am offering my brilliance to your institution. I'm not sure if this is where I ultimately want to be, but I am considering your university as a possible contender as I ultimately make my decision. I believe I can be an asset and my presence can only raise the profile of your program."

Creasey eyed Sheldon silently for a moment. At last he took a drink of his coffee and set the cup down again.

"Dr. Cooper," he began slowly, "While I'm sure everything you say is true, we may or may not have room for you here. I can assure you that I will look into what grant money we have available with which to fund such research and I will get back to you. Would that be satisfactory?"

Sheldon blinked rapidly at the large man, not sure if he'd been given a positive or negative answer.

"Um, certainly," Sheldon finally stammered. He took a quick sip of his tea, then stood. "I will look forward to hearing from you. You have my contact information in the copy of the resume I sent you yesterday."

"Yes, yes, I have it," Creasey replied, rising from his chair and offering his hand once again.

Sheldon stared at it for a moment, pressing his lips together, before finally relinquishing his own hand to be squeezed and shaken.

"It was very nice to meet you again, Dr. Cooper," Creasey went on, "now that you're all grown…um…now that you're so much older. This conversation really took me back to those days."

Sheldon frowned at him and opened his mouth, but wasn't sure what to say. He wasn't sure what Creasey meant.

"Like I said, Dr. Cooper, I'll call you with more information," Creasey said, now physically moving Sheldon toward the door with a large hand on Sheldon's slim shoulder.

"Very well," Sheldon said at last. "I look forward to hearing from you."

With that he found himself back in the assistant's office, Creasey's door firmly shut behind him.

"May I validate your parking ticket, Dr. Cooper?" Linda asked brightly.

"Um, I don't have one," Sheldon said absently. "I took a cab. But I would like to ask for directions to your campus bookstore. Is there a gift shop there?"

"Why yes, sir," she said with a smile.

She gave him detailed directions to the store, which he easily memorized, declining her offer of a campus map.

He browsed a while in the bookstore, but didn't find what he wanted. He went back outside, only to find a pleasant surprise across the street in an off-campus row of shops.

"Comic books!" he said aloud, practically running across the street.

Inside the store, he inhaled deeply, the familiar scent of ink and paper, silk-screened tee-shirts and plastic mint-packaging filling his nostrils and lungs. He wandered the small store, letting his eyes fall across familiar titles and artwork, pausing to look through a rack of superhero tee-shirts, looking over a shelf of collectible figures.

"May I help you?" a young man asked as he approached Sheldon.

"Why, yes," Sheldon said breathlessly. "I'd like this Flash tee-shirt and the latest Batman comic book. And this." He held the shirt and a small item out to the clerk and followed him back toward the counter, not even minding that the boy had more piercings and tattoos than Sheldon had ever seen on any one person.

With all of his purchases cradled in one arm, Sheldon made his way back out to the street to hail a cab, and was soon back at his hotel. He just had time to eat a quick lunch before he went back to his room to set up his laptop for the Skype call to Dr. Dail at the University of Illinois at Urbana/Champagne.

Although Dr. Dail was also familiar with Sheldon and his accomplishments, and seemed willing to consider the possibility of Sheldon coming aboard at his university, he, like Dr. Creasey this morning, didn't seem to grasp the fantastic opportunity Sheldon was offering.

"Dr. Cooper," Dr. Dail said, finally, "We'll be sure to seriously consider the prospect of having you join us here at UIUC and I will let you know our final decision."

Sheldon frowned into the screen a little.

"Very well," he said at last. "You have my contact information…"

"Yes, I do." Dr. Dail nodded firmly. "Thanks for calling, Dr. Cooper."

The screen went blank as Dr. Dail signed off and Sheldon sat for a full minute staring at the screen.

While he wasn't entirely sure he really wanted to transfer to either of these universities, he didn't like the feeling that he might possibly have been rejected just now. Perhaps he needed to write a formal proposal concerning his research plans to be sure that they understood what an asset he could be. He worked for a time on a detailed explanation of how he could bring his considerable genius to bear in the field of inflationary cosmology and how his presence could bring prestige to any university with the foresight to hire him. By the time he had finished and emailed a copy to both Dr. Creasey and Dr. Dail, he had just enough time to change clothes, eat a quick dinner and pack his things and check out.


	5. Chapter 5

At the massive and beautiful Union Station Sheldon paused on the platform to take a picture of the City of New Orleans, idling on the track, waiting to receive him. The only thing that would have made him happier was if Amy had been with him. He wanted to tell her everything he knew about this train. And all trains. As he settled in his roomette, he placed his nightly call to Amy.

"Hello, Sheldon," she answered after the first ring. "How are you?"

"Hello, Amy," he replied. "I'm fine. I'm on the storied 'City of New Orleans' train, getting ready to pull out of Chicago."

"Are you going to New Orleans?" she asked.

"Did you know," Sheldon began, ignoring her question, "that folksinger Arlo Guthrie recorded the song by the same name, celebrating long-distance rail travel, back in 1972? This route covers 926 miles linking three of the most important music capitals in America—Chicago, Memphis, and New Orleans. I don't care for jazz or blues music, but these three cities are important to the development of these forms of music."

"That's nice," Amy interjected.

"And," he continued in a rush, "this route travels between the Great Lakes and the Gulf of Mexico, from the farmlands in Illinois, through the forests of Tennessee and Mississippi, to the bayous of Louisiana. And in the approach to New Orleans, we'll travel along the longest single railroad curve in the United States, extending over nine miles!"

"That's all lovely, Sheldon," Amy responded a little impatiently. "But I was wondering how your interviews went today. Did they offer you a position?"

"No, not really," Sheldon replied, feeling a little deflated at the change of subject. "But both gentlemen seemed to be open to the idea."

"Would you really move to Chicago if they offered you a job there?" Amy asked quietly.

"What would you do in my situation, Amy?" Sheldon asked defensively. "If CalTech or UCLA wouldn't let you continue in the type of research you wanted to do, wouldn't you go somewhere else?"

"Perhaps," she said. "But if you leave…well…what about…us?"

Sheldon's palms were suddenly clammy and he gripped the phone more tightly.

"I guess…I guess I'd want…you to…come with me," Sheldon said tentatively.

She was quiet for a moment.

"But what about my work?" she asked at last.

"Amy…" he began with a sigh. "I don't know. I just know that I want to be able to do the work I was born to do. I don't want to waste my genius on a dead end field of study."

"And what about my field of study?"

"Well, wouldn't you be able to study neurobiology anywhere?"

"Sheldon, I would be dependent upon available grant money, openings available in a department and ongoing studies, just like you would be."

"But I…I want…" He could feel the color rising in his cheeks. He finally took a deep breath just as the train began to move. He wasn't sure how long he'd have a good connection.

"Can we talk about something else right now?" he went on.

"Okay," she agreed with a sigh.

"Well, what did you do today?" he began a bit more brightly.

"Oh, the usual," she replied breezily. "I studied the reactions of my monkeys to various stimuli. I ate lunch with Raj, Howard, and Leonard."

"What are you having for dinner tonight?" He was smiling as he pictured her in her lab coat and now at home in her apartment.

"I'm meeting Emily for dinner tonight," Amy went on. "Raj has to put in some time on one of the big telescopes and Howard and Bernadette are having dinner with her parents, and Leonard and Penny are doing some wedding planning. So Emily and I were at loose ends and decided to get a bite and then go to a lecture."

"That sounds…nice," Sheldon said. "Um…what is the lecture about?" He wasn't exactly interested, since he didn't know much about Emily, but he just wanted the conversation to continue.

"It's about Chaucer and other early English writers," Amy enthused. "As a matter of fact, I need to get going soon," she continued, her voice losing some of its brightness.

"Oh…" Sheldon replied reluctantly. "I guess I should let you go…"

"Um, yes, I guess so," she said. "So are you going to stay in New Orleans at all?" she began again, continuing the conversation anyway.

"Yes," Sheldon answered, happy that she wasn't yet hanging up. "My next connection doesn't leave New Orleans until Saturday morning, so I'll be spending a couple of nights there."

"That could be fun, Sheldon," she said. "There are lots of interesting restaurants, the French Quarter…"

"Oh, I don't know about that," Sheldon interrupted. "But I'll do some research online and find some way to amuse myself. Stuart mentioned a local comic book store there that he liked."

"Really, Sheldon?" she teased. "You're going to spend two nights in New Orleans and the only thing you're interested in is comic books?"

"Now, Amy," Sheldon chided, "How could you be surprised at that?" He smiled at her low chuckle.

"Sheldon," Amy said more seriously, "I really do have to go now."

"Yeah," he replied. "I guess you do."

"Have a nice trip," she said sincerely. "And go have some fun in The Big Easy. You know, 'Laissez les bons temps rouler'."

"Let the good times roll?" he chided. "Really, Amy? Are you suggesting I go out and get drunk, go to a strip show, go live it up?"

"No, Sheldon," she laughed. "Just don't be afraid to do something a little different while you're there."

"We'll see," he replied.

"Okay, Sheldon," she said. "I really do have to go. Goodnight!"

"Enjoy your lecture," he said quietly. "Goodnight, Amy."

He ended the call quickly, fighting the lump that suddenly formed in his throat.

He called for the room attendant to prepare his room for the night while he distracted himself with brushing his teeth and getting ready for bed.

* * *

As the morning light streamed into his room, he rolled over in bed to shield his eyes. He didn't feel like getting up. The change in motion as the train pulled into the station at Memphis had roused him from sleep, but it was only six-thirty. While he was normally an early-riser, he was still a little upset after last night's conversation with Amy. He buried his face in his pillow and went back to sleep.

He finally had a late breakfast and then spent the day mulling over Amy's words.

Would he really be able to leave CalTech and start over in Chicago or Urbana? And what about Amy? Would she follow him? Would they break up under such circumstances?

Which thing would he be more willing to sacrifice—his career or his relationship?

At one point in his life he would never have had to make such a decision. He'd never had a friendship before that he wouldn't have been willing to leave behind for the sake of his work and his pursuit of a Nobel Prize.

But of all the things he was unsure of these days, there was one thing he was sure of. He wanted Amy in his life. It was bewildering to him to realize that he had somehow become so attached to one person.

Over the years, he had become best friends with Leonard and had come to depend on him for many things, including helping him better understand certain social conventions. If it hadn't been for his friendship with Leonard—and through him, Howard, Raj, Penny, and Bernadette—he would probably never have known how to be friends with Amy, and eventually, how to be her boyfriend. He was still learning.

But his relationship with Amy was so different from all his other friendships. He had never imagined that he could feel so connected to any one person; that her opinions and her approval could be so important to him.

He knew he wanted to keep her in his life, no matter where he ended up.

Before he knew it, it was mid-afternoon and the train was pulling into the station in New Orleans. Amy had encouraged him to "let the good times roll" while he was here. Would he really be able to do that? By himself?

* * *

As Sheldon checked into his hotel, he asked the clerk to recommend a good restaurant. He had decided to take up Amy's suggestion. To a degree.

"Well, it depends, cher," the dark-haired woman began, a winking eye accompanying her Cajun accent.

"Depends on what?" Sheldon asked in confusion.

"Well, what kind of food do you want? Something fancy or something more down-home local?" She began to gather some brochures as she waited for Sheldon's reply.

"I'm not sure," he said at last. "How about both? I'll be spending two nights here. I might try a little of everything while I'm here."

"Okay," the clerk replied cheerfully. "These brochures give you the details on some of the finer restaurants in town—some here in the French Quarter, some a little further away. But I'm going to write down the name and number of a place I know. Right in the Quarter—good music, good food, good times. I highly recommend it!"

She gave him the note she'd written, accompanied by another smile and wink.

He frowned at her manner, not quite understanding her demeanor, but he took the brochures and the note and went upstairs.

He spent the afternoon exploring New Orleans via his laptop, then, armed with his formidable memory of all he had studied, he ventured out to find a place to eat. He had already planned his outings for tomorrow—comic book store, some kind of gift shop, a couple of museums and a couple of restaurants for lunch and dinner.

For now he stepped into a nice restaurant in the French Quarter. It was old-fashioned, decorated to evoke New Orleans' nineteenth-century past. Fortunately for Sheldon, the menu included a few familiar offerings and he settled for a plate of pasta. It wasn't typical of New Orleans, or of the south, necessarily, and it wasn't spaghetti with hotdogs, but it was still good.

As he ate, he looked around at the other patrons. Some seemed to be tourists, talking excitedly about being in the French Quarter, or about what new adventures they had planned. Others were obviously out on romantic dates—gazing into each other's eyes, drinking wine, holding hands, even kissing.

Sheldon blushed furiously as he suddenly remembered how he had kissed Amy on the train to Napa. He hadn't intended to kiss her. At least, not in the way that most people kiss. But what he had intended as mocking became something else the minute his lips touched hers. Even now, the thoughts and feelings from that night came flooding back and he had to take a deep breath.

He found that he liked kissing Amy—a lot—and he had quickly incorporated kissing into their monthly date nights. As a matter of fact, tonight was date night. This was the third Thursday in a month with five Thursdays.

He looked back at his dinner, beginning to get cold on his plate. He pushed it around with his fork for a moment, took one last bite, and washed it down with the last of his diet Coke. Maybe he could Skype with Amy tonight and have a long-distance date night. They couldn't kiss goodnight as their Relationship Agreement now specified, but he could at least see her face.

He paid his check and hurried back to the hotel.

* * *

In his room, he set up his laptop on the little table by the window, plugging it in to be sure he didn't run out of power in the middle of what he anticipated to be a nice long conversation with his girlfriend. Whether or not he would end up being happy with the circumstances back home remained to be seen, but his relationship with Amy made him happy. As long as she wasn't pushing to move in with him, or have sex. He still didn't feel ready for any of that, but otherwise he was happy.

He called her from his cell phone so he could tell her to open her laptop, but the phone rang several times with no answer. He pulled the phone away from his ear and scowled at it. Where would she be on their date night?

He reluctantly called Leonard instead.

"Hey, Sheldon!" Leonard began. "Good to hear from you, buddy! How are you? Where are you?"

"I'm in New Orleans and I'm fine," Sheldon replied impatiently. "Leonard, do you know where Amy is? She's not answering her phone."

"Yeah," Leonard said. "She and the girls just left for a girls' night. I think they're going out to eat and then out for drinks."

"What are you guys doing?" Sheldon asked reluctantly. He wasn't really interested, but hearing Leonard's voice did make him a little homesick.

"We're ordering a pizza and then we were going to watch some Babylon 5."

Sheldon scrunched his nose.

"Don't you guys care that the girls are going out without you?" he asked, remembering the night he had spent out with Amy, Penny, and Bernadette three years ago. He'd seen a new side to Amy that night. He had danced with her, which had pleased him more than he had ever let on. He'd never even told her how much he'd enjoyed it.

That was the first time Amy had kissed him.

"Sheldon, they need a little time on their own," Leonard reassured him. And we appreciate having time to do things the girls don't like—like watching a marathon of Babylon 5."

"Well…" Sheldon began, "I guess I'll let you get back to your sub-par science fiction viewing."

"Sheldon," Leonard began more seriously, "when are you coming home?"

"I'm not sure, Leonard," Sheldon replied sincerely, though in this moment, hearing Wolowitz and Koothrappali talking in the background, he wanted very much to be home. "I don't know."

"Well, okay," Leonard said quietly. "You take care of yourself. I'll let Amy know you called if I see her tonight. Leave her a message. I'm sure she just didn't hear her phone."

"Goodnight, Leonard," Sheldon said, quickly ending the call.

He tried Amy's phone again and this time it went directly to voice mail. He sighed and left a message.

"Hello, Amy," he began. "Since tonight is date night, I had hoped to Skype with you, but I understand that you're out tonight. Having fun, I presume. Try not to drink as much as Penny. One of you has to keep a clear head. Um…I know it's two hours earlier there, so when you get this message go ahead and call me back. I'll be up late. Um…I guess…um…goodnight, Amy."

He ended the call and put his phone down, rising to get a drink of water to ease the lump in his throat. Turning on the TV, he let some program he didn't care about drone on in the background to keep him company while he surfed the web and read more about New Orleans. Having grown up nearby in Galveston, he had some knowledge of New Orleans, but he'd never spent any time here, and he had a whole day to kill tomorrow.

He kept checking his watch, wondering what she might be doing.

What did she have for dinner?

Was she out drinking and dancing?

Had she not gotten his message yet?

Had she gotten the message, but just didn't want to speak to him?

Had he said something wrong during that conversation about taking a job in Chicago?

* * *

At some point he realized he had been asleep in front of his laptop, one finger pressing on the Z key, making an oddly appropriate string of Zs across the screen. The TV program had become an infomercial where two impossibly cheerful people were extolling the wonders of a particular brand of vacuum cleaner.

It was after two AM and Amy hadn't called.

He shut down his laptop and turned off the TV, and went to use the restroom and brush his teeth. He carried his phone with him as he moved about the room, just in case she called. It was just after midnight in California. She might still call.

At last he stripped down to his underwear and got in bed, taking one last look at his phone before turning off the lights. As he lay there, staring at the ceiling in the moonlight, he wondered what Amy was doing on their date night, remembering that night he'd danced with her, remembering that first fascinating kiss.

And the kiss on the train.

Heat suddenly flushed through his body and he concentrated his eidetic memory on all that he had felt in that one unexpected moment. His right hand moved along his body for a moment and he hesitated before reaching…down there. He fought the urge for a moment, but then gave in. He didn't often indulge in this sort of self-abuse, as he normally thought of it, but he wanted to tonight.

He thought about how much he had wanted to at least see Amy's face tonight. He wanted to hear her voice and her laugh. He wanted her to talk about science and monkeys and to make him think. He wanted her to stimulate his…his brain…his… He could no longer think clearly. He didn't want to think. He wanted…

He cried out as he climaxed, then lay panting and sweating under the covers. As his head cleared, he got out of bed and went about getting cleaned up. He was embarrassed, even though no one would ever know he'd done this. He would know. He would remember it the next time he looked at Amy. What if she were to call now? He'd be mortified.

When he had cleaned himself up and changed his underwear, he curled up on his side and fell quickly asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

In the morning Sheldon set out to find the comic book store he'd heard about from Stuart, hoping to find something there with which to entertain himself. He was still feeling a bit out of sorts after last night's disappointment. He had briefly considered calling Amy this morning, but had reluctantly decided against interrupting her at work. Besides, if she'd gone out drinking with Penny last night, who knows what kind of a hangover she might have today.

After several blocks of walking, he found the store, in the French Quarter, not too far from the famous and picturesque Lafayette Square. He happily spent quite a while in the store, inhaling the familiar smell of ink and paper, exploring the latest issues, and browsing through the store's considerable collection of vintage comic books, even finding a few rarities he'd been wanting.

When he had purchased all he wanted, he made his way back to the square for lunch and then wandered through several gift shops in and around Lafayette Square, searching for one perfect item. He was hot and tired when he returned to his hotel that afternoon, and after a brief nap in front of the air conditioner, he decided to try the restaurant the clerk had recommended.

* * *

He used the GPS on his phone to find his way to the restaurant, but then stopped and stood outside on the sidewalk for a few minutes. People were coming and going, laughing, maybe a little drunk. Music poured out of the place each time the door opened. It seemed a little wild.

"Bienvenue!" a gentleman called to him, holding the door open. "Come on in, cher! You hungry?"

Sheldon's mouth opened and closed a few times, his eyes blinking rapidly, as he tried to decide whether or not to go in. The man at the door waved him forward again and Sheldon found himself walking forward.

His senses were immediately assaulted on all sides—loud music from a small stage on the far end of the room, the heady smell of rich and spicy food cooking in the open kitchen to the left, a cacophony of laughter and conversation coming from every direction before him, including several patrons sitting at the bar to his right.

"How many in your party sir?" a pleasant woman asked him as he stood frowning at the room.

"Ju…just…just one," he stammered. He took a deep breath and decided to go through with it. The food smelled wonderful, anyway. "Could I have a table kind of far from the stage, please?"

"There's really only one table open, cher," she said sweetly. "It's toward the middle of the room. Will that work for you?"

"Very well," Sheldon replied, wrapping his arms around his body, as if to hold himself together against the onslaught of stimuli.

The hostess led him through the crowded room to a clean little table near the kitchen. As he nervously took his seat, she placed a menu in front of him on the table and laid one motherly hand on his shoulder, causing him to finch.

"It's okay, cher," she said quietly, bending to put her mouth closer to his ear. "You tell me what you need and I'll make sure you're okay." She gave him a wink and straightened up.

"Now, what can I get you to drink? Beer? Wine?" A cocktail?"

"I don't drink," Sheldon replied firmly. "May I please have a lemonade?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, cher," she said kindly. "We don't have lemonade. Do you want some iced tea or a soda?"

"I'll take a diet Coke," he said reluctantly.

"Okay, cher," she replied. "Your waitress will be by soon with your drink. I'll make sure she takes good care of you."

As she walked away, he opened the menu and looked for something that seemed familiar. They had several kinds of burgers and he carefully examined the details of each one, trying to decide which one sounded the least exotic. Another older woman returned with his drink, placing it and a paper-covered straw before him on the table.

"Have you decided what you want, cher?" she asked, in the same motherly, solicitous tone the seating hostess had used.

Sheldon wondered if he somehow looked like a lost child and forced himself to sit up straight at the table.

"Yes, ma'am," he began. "I would like your Creole Cheeseburger, but with the cheese, lettuce, and sauce on the side, please. And I'd like onion rings instead of fries."

"Okay, hon," she said, scribbling away on her notepad. "You want the pickles on the side, too?"

He glanced back down at the menu, surprised that he had missed the detail of the pickles.

"Um, yes, please," he replied, handing the menu to her.

"It'll be just a few minutes, hon," she said, laying a hand on his shoulder as the hostess had, causing him to flinch again.

Why did they insist on touching him?

After she left, he sighed deeply and relaxed into his chair, looking around the room, taking it all in. He found his knee bouncing in time to the energetic zydeco music coming from the stage and he watched the musicians for a time. He wondered if Amy would like this kind of music, or this restaurant.

Probably. It was a little wild and she'd been a little wild lately. It was probably Penny's influence.

He wondered what Amy was doing tonight. It was Friday night, so she might be going out again. Maybe dancing or drinking again, or going to the movies. He wanted to call her, but it was too noisy in here.

He looked at the people at the bar, drinking and laughing. Up near the stage there were six or eight people dancing in the tiny space that served as a dance floor. The music had become a folksy waltz and the couples were holding each other close as they moved across the floor. They were dancing, dipping, laughing. Old couples, young couples, happy couples. The waitress interrupted his thoughts as she returned with his food.

"Anything else, cher?" she asked.

"Um, yeah," he found himself saying impulsively. "Can I get a glass of…of…some kind of alcohol?"

"Are you sure?" she asked, with a sympathetic smile. "You don't seem to know what you're asking for."

"A Long Island Iced Tea," he said more firmly. "I would like a Long Island Iced Tea." He suddenly wanted to get drunk.

"Okay, you got it," she replied.

He took a moment to fuss over his burger, putting it together exactly the way he wanted, taking a moment to taste the sauce before pouring a bit of it on the patty. He had just begun to eat when the waitress returned with his drink.

"You make sure you eat that food before you drink this, hon," she said.

"I've had alcohol before," he said defensively. "And I've had this specific drink before, as well."

"Okay," she said kindly. She patted his shoulder one last time and left him to his meal.

Despite his response to her, he did indeed make sure he had a full stomach before taking an experimental sip of the drink. It tasted as good as he remembered from the time Penny had served him one. Or was it three? That evening was still a little fuzzy in his memory.

He alternated between the diet Coke and the cocktail, feeling the alcohol burning its way down his throat. The waitress swung by his table a while later and offered to take his now empty plate.

"How was everything, cher? Do you need anything else?" she asked.

"Yes, it was fine. And I'd like another Long Island Iced Tea, please," Sheldon said, feeling heady and loose.

"Are you sure, hon?" she asked doubtfully.

"Of course I'm sure," he replied. "I'm a grown man. I can drink."

"Okay, okay," she said, smiling to herself. She soon returned with another glass, taking his empty glasses away.

He sipped the new drink a little more quickly, enjoying the feeling of his joints uncoupling. Part of him wanted to get up and dance to the jig the band was now playing. The singer was singing in French or Cajun French. Something about someone leaving and not coming back.

He flagged down the waitress one more time.

* * *

Sheldon wobbled over toward the dance floor by himself, holding his fourth drink in one hand, trying to make his gangly body move to the time of the music, with little success. He came close to falling onto a couple sitting on the edge of the tiny dance floor. The band was playing another slow song, with mournful French lyrics. His fuzzy mind was still able to interpret the words and his quick musical ear quickly learned the tune. Soon he was trying to sing along, getting the notes right, at least.

"My girlfriend didn't call me last night…" he sang in time to the song. "She wants to live with me…but I don't know how. My best friend is moving out…and I don't know what to do. I don't want to study…string…theory…but they're making me…My girlfriend didn't call me last night…"

His waitress approached him and tried to take his arm.

"Come along, cher," she said sweetly, trying to steer him back to his table.

But Sheldon instead pulled her into his wobbly dance and sang to her.

"My girlfriend didn't call me last night…"

"Oh, now I know why you wanted to get drunk," she said, putting a strong arm around his slim waist and pulling him off the dance floor.

"Miss…ma'am…Miss…um, I'on't know y'name," he slurred as he let her lead him back toward his table.

"Marie, cher," she said. "My name is Marie."

"Marie," he began again, "woul'you hep me towar'th' res'oom? I'm'onna puke."

She nodded knowingly and led him down a narrow hall, releasing him in front of the men's room door and relieving him of his empty glass.

"Thanyou," he slurred as he pushed his way into the small restroom.

He made his way to the single toilet stall and bent over it just in time to lose his dinner.

He emerged several minutes later, not feeling much better. He looked for his waitress again, hoping she cared about him as much as she had seemed to all evening.

"Marie," he whispered as he approached her.

"Aw, cher," she replied sympathetically. "Are you feeling any better?"

"No' rilly," he said hoarsely. "I nee' a ge' back to my'tel. Ca'you hepme ge' a taxi?"

"Sure thing, hon," she said, taking his arm and leading him up to the entrance of the restaurant to a bench near the door.

"You sit here and I'll get you a cab." She stepped away for a few minutes and soon a taxi had pulled up, honking once.

She helped Sheldon get in the cab and made sure the driver understood Sheldon's slurred directions to the hotel, then sent him on his way.

As the taxi moved slowly through the dark streets, Sheldon struggled to pull his phone from his pants pocket. It took him a few minutes to touch the right button as the taxi jostled his already unsteady limbs around in the back seat. At last he managed to dial her number and the phone rang a few times. To Sheldon's disappointment, it then went to Amy's voice mail. He waited for the beep and began.

"H'lo, Amy," he slurred. "Thiss yer boyfren'. I wan'd to talk to you, bu' yer no' there. I wan'd to talk…oh, I sedthat'redy. Um…Amy, I mizyou. I wan'd to talk t'you."

He lowered his voice and whispered into the phone. "Iloveyou."

The taxi bounced through a pothole and Sheldon bent forward to vomit between his feet.

"I gotta go, 'my," he gasped into the phone. "I have to vomit."

* * *

Sheldon barely made it up to his room before he had to dash to the toilet and vomit again several times. At last he rinsed his mouth and threw himself onto his bed, barely taking the time to kick off his shoes.

He never noticed the text message notification on his phone.


	7. Chapter 7

He was woken by the sound of his hotel phone ringing persistently. He scowled at it with bleary, bloodshot eyes, but finally picked it up.

"Yes?" he rasped into the phone, clamping his eyes shut against the morning light streaming in through the window.

"Sir, this is the front desk," a man answered. "I believe you had left instructions to call you this morning at seven AM. We've been trying to call you. It's now eight AM."

"Thanks…" Sheldon said absently, hanging up the phone and trying to remember where he was and what he was doing.

New Orleans, seven AM…he rose unsteadily to his feet and made his way to the restroom. His bladder was bursting. As he stood before the sink washing his hands and splashing his face, the horrible taste in his mouth finally brought everything back. Today was Saturday. Saturday morning.

The train!

He quickly grabbed his things from the bathroom counter and threw them into his duffel, then went quickly but methodically through the room to make sure he had grabbed everything. He didn't have time to shower but he took a few seconds to grab a fresh t-shirt. The one he had been wearing seemed to smell of vomit…

He dashed downstairs and checked out, getting a taxi downstairs to rush him to the train station.

He checked in at the station just in time to pick up his reserved coach seat tickets. To his relief there was a slight delay in the train's scheduled departure time, giving him just enough time to take a quick picture of the Sunset Limited. He wanted to enjoy the moment, but his head was pounding and the sun was already too bright and the temperature already hot and sticky at nine AM.

He found a seat near a window on what seemed to be the shadier side of the train. He had a nine-hour ride before him and all he wanted to do right now was rest and try not to throw up again.

He closed his eyes and prayed that no one would try to talk to him.

* * *

By noon they were approaching the Texas border and he felt well enough to go to the dining car and order some plain toast and water. With that light fare to settle his stomach, he made his way back to his seat and let the movement of the train lull him into a fitful doze—not asleep enough to really rest, but not awake enough to do anything else.

* * *

By the time the train pulled into Houston in the evening, Sheldon was exhausted. He had managed to get over his hangover, but he felt like he was coming down with something. God only knew what kind of germs he had come into contact with in New Orleans.

Beyond that, he was feeling the weight of everything he had been through in the last week—the possibility of living alone, of moving away from Pasadena, of losing his girlfriend. The more he considered all the possibilities, the more confused he became.

He disembarked and quickly located the bus station, boarding a bus heading over the bay toward the one place he wanted to be more than anything.

Home.

* * *

Sheldon grasped the doorjamb with his left hand to steady himself and raised his right hand to knock on the door.

*Knock-knock-knock*

"Mother."

He swayed on his feet and leaned closer to the door

*Knock-knock-knock*

"Mom."

He leaned his body up against the door.

*Knock-knock-knock*

"Mommy…"

He finally lowered his forehead until it touched the wooden door as he listened for his mother. At last he heard her hurried footsteps on the other side of the door and he managed to pull himself upright just as she opened it.

"Shelly!" she exclaimed, holding her arms open to him. "What are you doing here? Why didn't you call?"

He couldn't answer for a moment because of the large lump that suddenly formed in his throat.

"Come in, honey," his mother said, taking his arm as he half-stumbled over the threshold, leading him into the living room.

Sniffing wetly, he drew the back of his hand beneath his nose and dropped his duffel on the floor.

"Do you want something to eat, Shelly? Can I get you anything?" She fussed over him, taking his shoulder bag and jacket.

He shook his head and finally found his voice.

"I just need to sit down, Mom," he said hoarsely. "I'm very tired."

"Of course, sweetheart," she said, leading him to the nearby armchair. She sat on the sofa near him and studied his face.

Sheldon looked at her and then turned away from her scrutiny. He knew she was already figuring out that he wasn't feeling well and that he was exhausted.

"I'd like to stay here for a day or two, if that's okay, Mom," he said quietly, studying his fingers. "I've been staying in hotel rooms and sleeping on trains and I just need…I need…" He wasn't sure what he needed apart from a shower and sleep. Lots of sleep.

"Sure, baby," she replied. She stood and pressed her palm against his forehead. "You look like you're coming down with something. I want to make you some hot tea or warm lemonade, and maybe some toast. Does that sound good?" She took his bearded chin and turned his face up toward the light.

He nodded into her hand.

"And I think you should try to take a bath, son," she said a little more firmly. "You've gotten a little…ripe." She softened her words with a gentle smile.

"I was going to take a shower," he answered.

"I think you should take a bath," she repeated. "You look a little too unsteady on your feet. I don't want you passing out in the shower."

"Yes, ma'am," he agreed quietly. Lying down in a hot bath sounded like a great idea. He tried to get to his feet, but couldn't seem to push himself up from the armchair. The minute he'd stepped into the house, all of his energy seemed to have left him.

She helped him to his feet and led him back to his old bedroom.

"There's clean underwear and pajamas in the drawers," she said. "I'll get your bathwater started for you." She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and left the room.

He looked around at his old toys and books and a wave of nostalgia washed through him. He kicked off his shoes and sat on the bed, eyeing his pillow longingly, but he knew if he put his head down, he'd never be able to get up for his bath, so he pushed himself up from the bed and set about getting the clean things he would need.

His mother was just shutting off the faucet as he entered the bathroom.

"There you go, Shelly-bean," she said, straightening up and wiping her hand on a towel.

"Thanks, Mom," he said, setting his clean underwear on the closed toilet.

"I put a clean towel on the bar there for you and I checked the temperature of the bath—it's just the way you like it," she said warmly. "You let me know if you need anything, okay?"

He nodded and waited for her to leave, then stripped out of his dirty clothes and eased himself down into the tub.

As the hot water lapped over him, he let out a sigh that hitched into a sob. He hadn't really admitted to himself how much he missed being in familiar surroundings. The scents in his mother's house hadn't really changed since he was a child and he was suddenly flooded with memories of those days. He curled onto his side in the tub, as much as his long body would allow, and slipped his head under the surface for a moment, letting the water envelop him like an embrace.

After a moment, he sat up and began scrubbing himself from head to toe, washing away the grime and confusion of the last few weeks. Or trying to. The grime came off easily enough, but everything else seemed to cling to him like a stain on a white shirt.

At last he struggled to his feet and gave himself a quick rinse with the showerhead as the dirty bathwater drained away, finally climbing out of the tub and toweling himself dry. He changed into his clean tee-shirt and underpants and wrapped the large bath towel over his shoulders like a blanket, dropped his dirty clothes into the hamper in the bathroom, and made his way back to his room.

The pillow beckoned him once again and this time he gave in, practically flinging himself onto the bed, sprawling across it and burying his face in the familiar scent of the laundry detergent his mother had used as long as he could remember. He drew the towel across his body and let himself relax into sleep.

Mary entered a few minutes later with a cup of hot lemonade and a plate of toast with the crust trimmed off.

"Sheldon, honey, are you awake?" she called softly as she put the plate and cup on the nightstand.

He stirred groggily and looked up at her.

"Honey, why didn't you put your pajamas on? Or at least get under the covers?" she asked, smoothing his damp hair away from his face.

"I was too tired, Mom," he said. "And I've gotten used to sleeping in my underwear, I guess."

"Okay," she replied, her brow furrowing a little. "I brought you some lemonade and toast. Do you want to try them, or would you rather go back to sleep?"

"No, I'll have some," he said, rubbing his eyes and pushing himself up.

She helped him sit up and handed him the cup.

"Be careful, honey, it's hot," she said, steadying his hands as he lifted it to his lips.

When she was assured he wouldn't drop it, she turned to the bureau and took out a pair of pajamas.

"Let's get you in your pajamas, son," she said, unfolding them on the bed.

He set the mug down on the nightstand and let her help him slip the shirt on. He started to work on buttoning it, but his hands felt thick and useless and he finally just let his hands drop to his lap. Without a word she took over and soon had the shirt buttoned, then handed him the pants.

"Do you need help?" she asked as he took them from her.

"No, ma'am," he replied, pulling them onto his legs and up to his thighs. But he looked up at her when he had to stand to finish pulling them on.

She took his arm and helped him to his feet just long enough for him to pull the waistband up, then she helped him to ease back down onto the bed.

"Why don't you finish your lemonade and toast and I'll go bring you something for that fever," she said. "Don't lie down until I get back. I want you to take something before you go back to sleep."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, nibbling on the toast. He wasn't really hungry, but he knew she would only worry more if he didn't eat. And he had to admit that the lemonade was soothing as he felt its warmth spread through him.

She returned with some ibuprofen tablets which he dutifully swallowed before setting his mug aside.

"Are you done with this, son?" she asked, pointing at the half-eaten toast and remaining drink.

"Yes," he replied, turning toward that tempting pillow once again. He started to lie back, but she took his arm again.

"I want you to get under the covers, honey," she said, pulling him to his feet just long enough to pull the covers down.

He climbed into the bed and curled onto his side as she pulled the covers up over his shoulders.

"Mommy," Sheldon began softly, reaching a hand out to her. "Will you sit with me a minute?"

She sat on the edge of the bed, taking his hand.

"What is it, son?" she asked gently, caressing his hand between hers.

"I just need you to stay with me, please," he said quietly, curling his fingers around her hand.

"What's the matter, honey?" she asked. "Why don't you just tell me?"

"I don't know, Mom," he said. "I'm so tired of being alone."

"You know I'm always right here," she said reassuringly. "You sleep tonight and we'll talk in the morning. What are you going to want for breakfast?"

"What day is it?" he asked sleepily.

"Tomorrow is Sunday," she said, patting his back as he began to relax.

"You're not going to make me go to church are you?" he asked, frowning with his eyes closed.

"No, honey," she said. "But I'll ask my Sunday school class to pray for you. Now, what do you want for breakfast?"

"Can I have pancakes? And orange juice with no pulp?"

"Of course, baby," she said, bending to kiss his forehead. "You sleep and I'll see you in the morning."

* * *

"Shelly!" Mary called from the dining room. "Come and eat your breakfast. I've got to leave for church."

Sheldon came out to the dining room in his pajamas, his hair askew, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Mary set a plate of pancakes on the table, along with a glass of orange juice.

"Have a seat, sweetheart. I'll bring you the butter and syrup, and then I've got to skedaddle. I'm running late." She ran a hand over his mussed hair and kissed the top of his head.

"You're not going to eat with me?" he asked, with mild disappointment.

"I'm sorry, honey, but I've got to go." She stepped briefly back into the kitchen, then reappeared with a small tub of butter and a bottle of syrup. "It's my turn to get the donuts for the class."

"Thank you for making me smiley-face pancakes," he observed, reaching for the butter.

"Of course, baby," she replied. "Now, I'm leaving, but I'll be back in time for lunch. There's a roast in the oven. Will you check on it right around noon?"

"Yes, ma'am," he answered, looking up at her. "I love you, mommy."

She stopped and looked at him for a moment, a bemused smile playing around her lips.

"I love you, too, sweetheart," she said at last. "I'll be back soon."

She left and he turned to his breakfast, deeply comforted by all the familiar details of his mother's home.


	8. Chapter 8

After breakfast, Sheldon showered, trimmed his beard, dressed and then set about doing his laundry, checking on the roast, and pointedly avoiding any thoughts about his career or his life in Pasadena.

He still didn't feel completely well, so he indulged in a mid-morning nap, rousing when he heard his mother's car pulling into the drive.

"Shelly," she called as she entered the house. "I'm home, baby. And look who I brought with me!"

He stepped out into the living room to find his mother and his grandmother putting down their purses and Bibles.

"Meemaw!" he exclaimed, hurrying into her waiting embrace.

"Moonpie! It's so good to see you!" she replied, holding him tight for a moment as he bent down toward her tiny frame. She passed a slim but strong hand briefly over his head before pressing a kiss onto his cheek. "How's my sweet boy?"

He simply shook his head and smiled at her, a little overwhelmed at seeing her. He had, of course, figured he would see her during the few days he intended to stay with his mother, but it was a genuine surprise to see her today.

"You grew a beard!" she remarked.

"For now," he replied, unsure whether or not she approved.

"Well, let's get some of this pot roast, y'all," Mary said, making her way into the kitchen as Sheldon and his grandmother moved into the dining room and began to set the table.

As they ate dinner, Sheldon happily told his mother and grandmother all about the trains he'd ridden and the various towns and geographical features he'd seen along the way. He wasn't sure if they were really interested, but he was happy that they indulged him and seemed to enjoy his enthusiasm.

The afternoon wore on and the conversation wound down until at last his Meemaw spoke.

"So, Shelly, how long are you planning to stay away from home?"

Sheldon was taken aback by her question and turned to frown at his near empty plate, as if an answer could be found there. He pushed the remnants of food around for a moment before trying to answer.

"Um…" he began, allowing himself to be distracted by the task of using his fork to push blobs of mashed potatoes into a straight line.

"Sheldon, honey," his mother spoke up, "let me take that plate, if you're finished eating."

He looked up at her and stammered out a quick, "Yes, ma'am." He turned back to his grandmother.

"Meemaw…I hadn't thought that much about it," he said at last.

"I find that hard to believe, sweetheart," she said, sipping from her coffee cup.

Sheldon traced the patterns on the tablecloth with his finger.

"I just wanted to get away from there. I needed to think. I don't know if I'm done thinking."

"What exactly did you need to think about?"

He frowned at the tablecloth. He knew that she would see right through him if he told her anything less than the truth. He wondered if he even knew the truth.

"Moonpie…" she prompted gently, reaching her silky, wrinkled hand out to him.

He took it without thinking, relishing her gentle grasp.

"Everything is falling apart," he began, still staring at the tablecloth. "Everything is changing and I want everything to stay the same. I don't know how to fix it."

"Oh, sweetheart," she soothed, gently squeezing his hand. "You know nothing can stay the same forever."

He scowled even more severely.

"Why not?" he asked petulantly. He knew he was being stubborn and ridiculous, but he was trying to be honest.

"Didn't you used to talk to Pop-Pop about the expanding universe?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered, turning his confused frown toward her.

"Well, I don't understand all of that, but I do remember you saying that things were in constant motion."

"Well, yes…" Sheldon replied.

"Doesn't that mean that everything is in constant change?" She smiled gently at him.

"Meemaw," he answered in mild exasperation, "those changes happen over billions of years across the vastness of space, not in the confines of my apartment."

"Well," she began again, "you've been through all kinds of changes in your life."

"I know," he said, turning back to his perusal of the table cloth. "But I…I'm just…I don't know what to do."

"What can you do, sweetheart?" She gave his hand another squeeze.

He looked at their joined hands. He loved the touch of her hand. He had never liked being touched by others, with the exception of his mother and his Meemaw. And Amy. He was getting used to her touching him. That was a change that had happened in his life. It had happened gradually—so gradually that he sometimes forgot what his life was like before he met Amy.

"That's what I'm trying to figure out, Meemaw," he said in a small voice. He dared to look up into her eyes and her soft gaze made tears threaten to well up in his eyes. He looked away and cleared his throat, releasing her hand.

She took a deep breath and nodded.

"How long are you staying, Shelly?"

"Well, my train doesn't come back through Houston until Wednesday evening, so I'll be here a few days."

"Good," she answered as she stood. "Then maybe we can visit some more. Now, I'm going to go see if your mama needs any help with that pecan pie I know she made last night. You want some?"

"Yes, ma'am" he replied. The thought of his mother's pecan pie momentarily drove away his uncertainty. "May I have a scoop of chocolate ice cream beside it?" he asked with a smile.

"Of course, Moonpie!" She kissed his cheek as she moved off into the kitchen.

He knew that he had to make some decisions soon, but for now he just wanted pie.

* * *

"Well, honey," Mary began, picking up the empty dessert plates from the table, "your Meemaw and I are going to take a little nap before we head back to church tonight. Did you need anything? Are you feeling better than last night?"

She paused to feel his forehead.

"You still feel a little warm, baby," she said with a frown.

"I'm okay, Mom," he said, though he pressed his forehead into her soft hand.

"I'll bring you some Tylenol," she said, kissing the top of his head.

* * *

As his mother and Meemaw were napping, Sheldon spent a few minutes putting away his clean laundry and reorganizing his things. His mother had been right and he still wasn't feeling completely well, so after a moment he kicked off his shoes and lay down on his bed, fishing his phone out of his shoulder bag. He suddenly realized that he hadn't looked at his phone since he had thrown it in his bag in his rush to make the train in New Orleans.

Between being drunk and sick Friday night, dozing on the train Saturday, then going straight to bed when he got home, he hadn't even touched his phone. And now as he tried to check for messages, he found that the battery had run down. He took out the charger and plugged it in to the socket near his bed.

Only then did he see that he had two messages from Amy from Saturday and one from this morning. He put the phone on speaker and played the messages.

"Sheldon, this is Amy. Are you okay? I got the…the message you left last night. I'm sorry we missed each other. Are you still in New Orleans? Call me back, please."

"Sheldon, this is Amy again. I haven't heard from you yet. You're not angry with me because I didn't answer the phone Friday night, are you? I was at a Neil Diamond concert with Howard and Bernadette. I turned my phone off because we were at the concert, and then it was pretty late. Um…call me, please."

"Sheldon, I'm worried about you. Where are you? Call me back right away! By the way, did you mean…what you said? I know you were drunk, but… Anyway, call me, please."

Suddenly he remembered the message he had left on her phone. He had to concentrate a moment to think through the drunken haze of that night.

Oh, God. He'd said…had he really said…

He swallowed hard and stared at his phone. He put it back on the nightstand to let it charge while he thought about what he would say when he called her back.

Sheldon tried to nap, but he felt too antsy. His brain wouldn't shut down, puzzling over his upcoming conversation with Amy. At last he got up and pulled the plastic tub of his old Tinker Toys from the shelf in his room and began to use the wooden and plastic pieces to fashion crude models of molecules. This was how he had first begun to learn their structure when he was a child and the familiar routine settled him. He didn't think about Amy or drunken messages or anything apart from the elegant design of the building blocks of science.

* * *

In the early evening, his mother knocked softly on the jamb of his open door and stepped into his room.

"We're fixin' to leave for church, Shelly," she began. "Are you feeling better?"

He looked up at her and nodded, rolling his bottom lip in between his teeth.

"I'm fine," he replied as she stepped forward to press a kiss onto his forehead.

"You don't feel as warm as you did earlier," she agreed. "I'm going to take your Meemaw home after church, and then I'm going to stop at the store for a few things for tomorrow night. Would you like to help me do some baking tonight when I get back?"

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, offering her the smile he knew she expected.

"All right, sweetheart," she said, kissing his cheek. "Do you want to come out and say goodnight to Meemaw?"

He nodded and followed his mother out and spent one more moment with his Meemaw before returning to his room.

Once he was alone in the house, he returned to the Tinker Toys, knowingly stalling as long as he could before making the call he both dreaded and longed for. He wanted to talk to Amy, since he hadn't talked to her in days, but he didn't want to deal with the fallout from his drunken message.

At last he put the Tinker Toys back on the shelf and returned to sit on the edge of the bed. He stared at the phone for several minutes before he worked up the courage to pick it up, surprised to find his palms suddenly clammy. He wiped his hands on his pants before he finally placed the call.

The phone rang once and then Amy was on the line.

"Sheldon!" she said urgently. "Are you okay? Where are you?"

"Amy, I'm fine," he said, taking a deep breath. "I'm at my mother's house in Galveston. I'm going to be here for a couple of days."

"Oh," Amy replied. "Um…how's your mother?"

"She's fine," he answered. "Since I was in this part of the country, I thought I would come and visit her."

"I see," Amy said quietly. "So…um…how was New Orleans?"

"Well…" Sheldon hedged. "I did find that comic book store that Stuart recommended. I found several issues that I've been looking for. I even bought a Batman bobble-head!"

"And…?" Amy prompted.

"And? What?" For a moment he was genuinely confused.

"What else did you do in New Orleans?" she asked quietly.

"Um…I ate at three different restaurants…" he offered.

"Sheldon," she began, chiding him gently. "I think you got drunk."

Sheldon huffed air through his nose.

"Ye…yes," he finally blurted out. "I tried to call you the night before, but you never called me back. So I…I…I had a drink…or two…or…and then I got sick. I threw up 5 times!"

"Sheldon, you said something to me when you called Friday night," she tried again.

"Amy…" he began, feeling a little exasperated. "I was drunk when I called you."

"_In vino veritas_, Sheldon?" Amy asked quietly.

"Amy…I…I can't talk about that right now," he responded in a tight, quiet voice.

"Are you saying that you didn't mean it?" she replied, her voice taking on a less gentle edge.

Was she angry? Or hurt? He struggled to determine which it could be. He still wasn't good at comprehending shifting moods, but he had come to recognize when Amy wasn't happy. He knew she wasn't happy.

"I'm…I'm just saying that I…can't talk about it," Sheldon finally said. His face was flushed and his heart was pounding. He was squirming as he sat on the edge of the bed, wrapping his free arm around his chest to hold himself together.

"I was just asking…" she said more gently.

"Please, Amy," he said quietly. "Please don't…please…"

"Okay, okay," she replied quickly. "I'm sorry I put you on the spot."

"Can we talk about something else?" he said with a sigh as he felt what seemed like a physical weight come off his shoulders.

"How's your family?" she said, changing the subject.

"They're fine," he said more easily. "Mom called Missy and George Jr. and invited them and their families over for dinner tomorrow night. I'm exhausted just thinking about it."

"I'm sure you'll be fine, Sheldon," Amy said. "You were there for your nephew's birth. Now you'll get to see how big he's gotten."

"I don't care about that," he said frankly. "I just want some peace and quiet."

"It'll be okay," she reiterated. "Do you have any plans to come home yet?"

"I'm not sure, Amy," he said simply. "Soon, I guess. I'm tired and I think I'm getting sick."

"Well, take some time to rest, Sheldon," she said. "But come home soon. We all miss you."

She hesitated a moment, then continued.

"I miss you."

Sheldon swallowed hard.

"I miss you, too, Amy," he whispered.

He heard his mother's car pulling into the drive and he sighed.

"Amy, my mother's home. I should go."

"Okay, Sheldon," she replied. "Tell your mother I said hello. Call me again."

"I don't know if I'll have a chance to call you tomorrow, but I'll call when I get ready to leave town."

"Don't forget, Sheldon," she said.

"Amy, I have an eidetic memory. I won't forget," he reminded her.

"Okay," she said with a chuckle. "Good night."

"Good night, Amy."

He reluctantly ended the call just as his mother entered the house.

"Shelly," Mary Cooper called from the front room. "I'm home, honey."

He emerged from his room, happy to see her, but still feeling a little unsettled from his conversation with Amy. He needed to ask his mother something.

His mother had carried a couple of grocery bags into the kitchen for tomorrow night's dinner and he dutifully helped her put things away.

"Mom," he began, gathering the empty grocery bags, "I was wondering if you have a gift bag I could use."

"A gift bag?" Mary repeated, a puzzled smile touching her face.

He blushed in spite of himself. "Yes, ma'am. I…I have…something I… Do you have one I could have?"

"Of course, honey," she answered, pausing a moment to look at him.

* * *

Before he went to bed, he set up his laptop and went online to confirm the contact information for the head of the physics department at Rice University, where he had earned his undergraduate degree. He wondered if he could find a place in their physics department.

If he could study inflationary cosmology at Rice, he would be closer to his mother. It would mean being away from his friends—and Amy—but at this point he was still gathering data, as Amy had put it. Decisions would come later.

He tossed and turned for a while before finally falling into a fitful sleep.

* * *

_He was holding a large Rubik's Cube in his hand, turning and twisting the rows, trying to get all the sides to align correctly. But instead of blocks of colors, the rows had names and words on them and he couldn't figure out how to match them up._

_Amy, Leonard, Penny, String Theory, Inflationary Cosmology, Neurobiology, Mommy, Rice, Chicago, New Orleans, Pasadena, CalTech._

_No matter how much he twisted and twisted, he couldn't figure it out._

_He was in Leonard's lab, working with one of Leonard's lasers, but he kept destroying the material he was working with. He wasn't an experimental physicist, but he knew how to operate a laser.__Why couldn't he make it work?_

_"__The machine needs to be recalibrated," Leonard told him._

_Sheldon was surprised to find Leonard there._

_"__Recalibrated?" Sheldon asked, wrinkling his brow in confusion._

_"__It's been thrown out of balance," Leonard said simply._

_"__You said that the universe is always expanding, Moonpie," Meemaw said._

_"__Not my universe, Meemaw," Sheldon objected._

_"__Why not?" she asked simply._

_"__Because…because…I don't want things to change," he finally blurted._

_"__You know you've wanted things to change before," Meemaw said._

_"__But…"_

_"__Let your universe expand."_

* * *

Sheldon sat up quickly in his bed and looked around in confusion. Once he realized he was still in his childhood room, he sighed and eased back down onto his pillow. He curled up and pulled the covers up as high as possible, willing himself back to sleep.

* * *

In the morning Sheldon stepped into the kitchen where his mother was making a pot of coffee.

"Good morning, Shelly," she said cheerfully, kissing his cheek. "What do you want for breakfast, sweetheart?"

"Oatmeal, please, Mom," he said, moving to the refrigerator to serve himself a glass of orange juice.

"How are you feeling this morning, baby?" she asked as she started on the oatmeal. "What are you going to do today?"

"I'm fine, Mom," he replied, putting a pot of water on to boil for tea. "I'm going to have a Skype interview with Dean Bates at Rice to ask about their physics department," Sheldon said, then, pausing with a tea bag in his hand, added, "and I guess I'll inquire about their neurobiology program, as well…"

"Oh?" Mary replied. "Are you going to work at Rice?"

"I'm considering it," he answered, turning away from her questioning gaze. "If they can assure me a chance to focus my research on something other than string theory, I might want to work in their physics department."

"I see," she said slowly. "And what was that about neurobiology?"

"Well," he began, suddenly finding his tea very interesting. "Amy…reminded me that if I choose to change institutions, I need to consider her position as well."

"So she could join you if you move?" Mary asked simply.

"Possibly," Sheldon said, sipping his tea. He took a deep breath and turned back to the refrigerator.

"Would you like me to serve you some orange juice, Mother?" he asked, desperate to change the subject.

"Yes, thank you, Shelly," Mary answered, pausing to look at him with a warm smile.

He smiled back at her. "What are you going to do today, Mom?" He didn't really care much, but he wanted to keep the conversation away from his relationship with Amy.

"Well," Mary began, beginning to work on Sheldon's oatmeal, "I have a few errands to run today. I'm going to Walmart. I was going to ask if you want to come along, but I guess you'll be busy."

"Yes, I'll be busy," he replied. He got a loaf of bread and loaded the toaster.

* * *

After his mother had left, Sheldon set up his laptop on the dining room table and placed his call to the dean of the physics department at Rice University.

"Ah, Dr. Cooper," Dean Bates began. "It's good to hear from you."

"Yes, hello, Dean Bates," Sheldon replied, trying to remember to be polite and professional, though he was anxious to get to the point of his call.

"My assistant tells me that you are interested in an opening in our program," Bates continued.

"Yes," Sheldon began. "I want to shift my research from string theory to inflationary cosmology and I was wondering if you might have room in your program for me to bring my research to your institution."

"Why, yes, Dr. Cooper," Bates said with surprised pleasure. "I think we do indeed have room in our program, especially for such an illustrious alumni."

"Would there be grant money available to fund my research?" Sheldon pressed.

"Well, I believe we do have something available, but, of course, I'd have to verify the amount," Bates continued. "But be assured, Dr. Cooper, we will do everything to bring you to our program."

"Mm-hm," Sheldon replied, suddenly not as excited as he had expected to be. He took a deep breath and went on.

"Dr. Bates, could you give me the name of the dean of your biology department. I need to speak to someone about the neurobiology programs at Rice."

Bates frowned and tilted his head in confusion. "Neurobiology? What does that have to do with your research in physics?"

"Um…" Sheldon stammered, "Um…it's for a colleague. Dr. Fowler is possibly interested in Rice, as well."

"Give me a moment," Dean Bates said, picking up his telephone and speaking to his assistant. "You'll need to speak to Dean Edwards at this number."

Bates recited the number to Sheldon, then added, "If you'd like to come down and see our department in person, Dr. Cooper, I think you'll find that we've made several upgrades since you were here for your undergraduate studies."

"Yes, I'm sure, Dean Bates," Sheldon replied. "I need to speak to Dean Edwards right now, but I'll get back to you." Sheldon ended the call and used his cell phone to call Dean Edwards.

"Dean Edwards," Sheldon began nervously, "I am inquiring for a colleague about the availability of a research position in your neurobiology program."

"Yes, Dr. Cooper," Edwards replied. "I just got an email from Dean Bates that you are considering coming to our university and that you were wondering about my department. Unfortunately, we have no availability in our program at this time."

"Oh…" Sheldon replied, surprised at how disappointed he was at the answer. He hadn't been sure he really wanted to come out to work at Rice, but once he had decided to check on a position for Amy, some part of him had become excited at the prospect of the two of them transferring together. He knew that he could still transfer his own research, but that would mean leaving Amy behind.

"If you're sure there's nothing available," Sheldon continued, "then I guess there's nothing more for us to discuss."

"I'm very sorry to disappoint you, Dr. Cooper," Edwards went on. "I do know that Dean Bates is very excited at the prospect of you coming here."

"Yes, thank you," Sheldon said absently. "Thank you for your time, Dead Edwards. I need to go now." He ended the call without waiting for Edwards to reply.

Sheldon sat and stared at his laptop for a moment before shutting it down and returning to his room. He wanted to explain the disappointing situation to Amy, but he didn't want to call her just now.

Would he really come out here without her? Would she stay in Pasadena without him? Would this be the end of their relationship? Could they go back to the relationship they'd had when they first met—simply texting and emailing and not being together?

No. He knew that wouldn't be good enough for either of them. If nothing else, he had learned that much during this journey. While it had been good to call or Skype with her almost every night since he left town, he knew that it had not been enough. Though he still wasn't as eager for physical interaction as she was, he wanted to eat dinner with her, sit on the couch, go to the movies-he even wanted to hold hands with her at the movies.

He couldn't come to Rice without her. He couldn't go to Chicago or Champagne-Urbana without Amy. That meant returning to Pasadena and to CalTech. And most likely returning to string theory.

If he returned to Pasadena, he'd be back in his comfortable apartment. All his things were there—his comic books, his trains, his collectibles and games and DVDs.

But Leonard would be there, and probably Penny, as well. And his whiteboards with his string theory work—his pointless string theory work.

Just picturing his apartment made him both homesick and angry.

If Leonard moved out, what would Sheldon's options be? Live alone? Get a new roommate? Let Amy move in? He didn't really like any of his options—not completely.

He lay back on his bed and threw an arm over his eyes. He wasn't going to cry.

He started crying, and rolled over to curl up on his side.

* * *

By the time Mary returned, Sheldon had fallen asleep, but he awoke when he heard the front door close.

"Shelly," his mother called. "Do you want to come and help me do some cooking?"

"Yes, ma'am," he dutifully replied. He got up and ducked into the bathroom to clean his face before meeting her in the kitchen.

He let the familiar routine of working in the kitchen with his mother soothe and calm him. Cooking was something he'd done as a child, with both his mother and his Meemaw, and it was usually a pleasant, fun pastime, but even with his mother reminding him of humorous stories from his childhood, he couldn't quite shake his dark mood.

As the afternoon wore on, he knew things were not going to get better once his older brother came along. Though he and George Junior didn't hate each other, they had never been close, nor even particularly friendly. George had always taken pleasure in teasing and harassing Sheldon and had never outgrown the behavior.

After a time, Mary asked Sheldon to start setting the table and Sheldon quickly obeyed. The rules and conventions of proper table setting pleased him. At least he could enjoy that.

* * *

There was a knock on the door as it was opened.

"Hello! Mama, come see your grandbaby!" Sheldon's sister called out as she and her husband entered with their baby in a carrier.

Mary emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron and smoothing her hair.

"Oh, let me see that sweet snickerdoodle!" she exclaimed as she lifted the baby from the carrier.

Sheldon remained at the dining room table, carefully aligning the silverware with the edges of the placemats and making sure the napkins were folded in perfect thirds.

"Shelly!" Missy half-shouted, rushing over toward him with her arms held wide. "Mama told me you were visiting! Come give me a hug!"

Sheldon stood still, a spoon in one hand and a table knife in the other, and waited for her to assault him with a hug. He stiffened as she wrapped her arms around his body, but he eventually raised one hand to awkwardly pat her on the back a few times. He was careful to keep the silverware he was holding from touching her body.

"Come and see your nephew, Shelly," she gushed, pulling him toward the living room. "Look how much he's grown!"

"Yes," Sheldon said, stubbornly stopping several feet from where his mother held the chubby boy on her knee. He was still clutching the silverware in his tight fists. "Children do grow."

"Hey, Shel." Missy's husband Mike held out his large hand. "How ya doin'?"

Sheldon ignored Mike's proffered hand.

"Hello, Mike," Sheldon said, hoping the man would not try to engage him in conversation. "Um, "I've got to finish setting the table," he said, holding up the silverware in his hands and slipping away from all the people.

"Dinner's going to be ready soon," Mary began, still fussing over the baby. "Yes, it will! Yes, it will!" she cooed to the baby. She then looked up at Missy. "Are you going to put him down before dinner, or do you want me to set up the high-chair?"

"I thought I'd keep him at the table with us for a little while," Missy said, fishing a couple of bottles from the baby's diaper bag. "I know Meemaw will want to see him before he goes to sleep. He can have a bottle while we eat." She took the bottles in to the kitchen.

Sheldon took his time fussing over the table in order to avoid having to make conversation with his brother-in-law. He barely knew the man and could think of nothing he wanted to say to him or hear from him. Soon Sheldon became aware that Mike was staring at him and he looked over.

"How'd you learn to set the table like that?" Mike asked. "I thought only girls and butlers did that sort of thing."

Sheldon stared at him for a long moment, trying to decide what sort of answer would put an end to the conversation.

"I just like doing things right," he said at last and turned back to his work. To his relief, Missy came out of the kitchen and pulled Mike away to help her with the baby's high chair.

Just then there was another quick knock and Sheldon's brother George Junior entered, carrying a glass baking dish and leading Meemaw into the house.

"Hey, Mama," George said, offering his mother a quick hug. "Mike, Missy. Hey, Shelly!"

Meemaw said her hellos and joined Mary and Missy in cooing over the baby.

George came over to place the baking dish on the table.

"No," Sheldon objected. "If that's Meemaw's cobbler, it goes over here on the sideboard."

George rolled his eyes but complied with Sheldon's directions.

"So, Shell," George began, turning back to his younger brother. "Whatcha doin' out here? Missy tells me you ran away from home."

Sheldon huffed out a sharp breath.

"I did not run away from home and why I'm here is none of your beeswax."

"Sure, sure," George said with a laugh. He faked a poke at Sheldon's nose and when Sheldon moved to cover his face, George poked him in the ribs instead.

"Man, you still fall for that one," George chuckled.

Sheldon crossed his arms tightly around his middle and resisted the urge to tattle. Of all the things in his life that might be changing, his brother's antagonism never would.

Fortunately, Mary came into the dining room just then. She handed the baby to Meemaw and said, "I think we're ready to eat. Missy, come help me bring the food out."

As everyone came to the table, Sheldon tried to maneuver himself into the ideal seat. He wanted to avoid George, Missy, Mike and the baby, which left him little choice.

He tried to maneuver himself to sit between his mother and Meemaw, but somehow wound up sitting between George and Mike.

Fortunately for Sheldon, much of the initial dinner conversation revolved around the baby and his latest milestones—how well he was crawling, how often he slept through the night, what the doctor thought at his last check-up. George and Mike talked to each other about sports and TV, while Sheldon ate and pretended to be invisible.

Unfortunately, that anonymity ended as his mother began serving cobbler and ice cream for dessert. Missy rose to take her son to the guestroom and Meemaw went to help her get him changed and down for a nap.

Sheldon accepted his dessert with a quiet "Thank you, Mom."

"So, Sheldon," George began, almost immediately, "are you still dating that egghead girl? What's her name? Andrea?"

Sheldon scowled at him.

"Her name is Amy Farrah Fowler," he replied sharply. "Yes, I am still dating her, and no, while she is vastly more intelligent than you, she is not an egghead."

"Have you gotten in her pants yet?" George asked around a mouthful of cobbler, winking across the table at Mike.

"Junior!" Mary barked. "You will not speak like that in this house!"

Sheldon's face was burning and he knew everyone was looking at him. He stared at the cobbler and melting ice cream on his plate, debating the merits of fleeing to his room.

"Sorry, Mama," George replied, still smirking at Sheldon. "But Shelly, seriously, y'all have been together for how long now? A couple of years, right? And nothing has changed."

Sheldon stared at George. Of all the ways he might define his relationship with Amy, "nothing has changed" would not be one of them.

In the four years he had known Amy, his relationship with her had changed, and had changed him in ways he had never anticipated. They'd gone from a platonic, purely intellectual friendship to a romantic pair bond, and though they had not yet taken the sexual step to which his brother so crudely referred, Sheldon had to admit that that further transformation was indeed looming on the horizon.

Still, it was his own issue to ponder and no one else's.

"Not that it's any of your business," Sheldon began at last, "but Amy and I are very happy…I mean, we're not…" His voice petered out as he found himself unable to describe his relationship in a way he thought anyone else would understand. He looked up at his mother and pleaded silently with her.

"Junior," Mary put in quietly. "It's none of your business."

George looked between his mother and Sheldon and finally nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

Missy and Meemaw returned to the table and sat down for dessert while Sheldon gulped down the last of his cobbler and turned to his mother.

"May I be excused, Mother?" he asked, wiping his mouth with his napkin.

"Sheldon," Mary admonished. "I don't want you running off to hide in your room. I invited the family over to visit with you. You haven't been home since last Christmas when the baby was born."

Sheldon sighed and tried to refrain from rolling his eyes. He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms, waiting for the others to finish eating.

At last they all got up from the table and while Sheldon, George and Mike moved into the living room, Mary and Meemaw went into the kitchen and Mary went to check on the baby.

Mike sat on the sofa, but George came up behind Sheldon.

Before Sheldon realized what was happening, he found himself caught in the crook of George's elbow with his brother's knuckles digging painfully into the top of his head.

"Shelly needs a noogie on his noggin!" George laughed at Sheldon's attempts to free himself.

"Stop it!" Sheldon yelled. Angry tears spilled down his cheek as he struggled, punching ineffectively at his stronger older brother.

"Hey, come on, y'all," Mike said, just as Missy came in from the guestroom.

"Y'all are going to wake the baby," she grated, punching George in the shoulder.

Mary and Meemaw came rushing in from the kitchen just as Sheldon finally managed to land a blow in George's crotch, sending his brother staggering into the armchair.

"What the Sam Hill is going on in here?" Mary barked angrily, her hands planted on her hips.

Sheldon straightened up, but said nothing as he fought against his tears, roughly swiping at his eyes and nose.

"Shelly can't take a joke, Mom," George managed to say. "I was just goofing with him."

Mary eyed the scene before her. Mike on the sofa, looking embarrassed, Missy glaring at her brothers, George smirking at Sheldon. Sheldon stood alone in the center of the room, his cheeks blotched with color, tears spilling down his cheeks, his arms wrapped tightly around his chest.

"Junior, apologize to your brother," Mary said at last.

"Sorry, Shelly," he said quickly, not sounding sorry at all.

Sheldon did not acknowledge the apology, but looked imploringly at his mother.

She returned his gaze for a moment and then sighed.

"Well, I think it's time we all said goodnight," she said.

Sheldon immediately left the room, not bothering to speak to anyone.

As the others said their goodnights he retreated to the bathroom to splash water on his face. As he leaned on the sink, he finally let himself cry in earnest, hoping the sound of the running water would mask his sobs.

With his friends, he could hold his own, he could easily dismiss the barbs they cast his way and he usually had plenty of stinging remarks to give them in return. It was usually more in fun, anyway. However, when it came to his older brother, Sheldon found himself reduced to an overgrown version of his childhood self—smaller, more gullible and naïve—and for all his heightened intelligence, unable to defend himself, physically or verbally.

It was humiliating.

He stood there for several minutes, crying and scrubbing at his face, until there was a knock on the door.

"Moonpie," his Meemaw called. "I'm fixin' to leave. Come say goodnight to me, honey."

"Just a minute, Meemaw," he answered, struggling to overcome the tightness in his throat. He splashed his face once more then dried himself, taking a moment to look in the mirror before going to the door.

"Goodnight, Meemaw," he said, bending quickly to embrace her so she wouldn't see that he'd been crying.

"Goodnight, my sweet Moonpie," she murmured, holding him a little more tightly than usual. "Now, come on out and say goodnight to your brother."

"Meemaw!" Sheldon replied, straightening up and crossing his arms. "He was hurting me!"

"I don't want you two going to bed angry with each other," she said firmly. "You come out and make up."

Sheldon rolled his eyes, but obediently followed her back out to the living room where George was standing by the door.

"Now, you two apologize and say your proper goodnights," Meemaw insisted, drawing Sheldon closer to his brother.

"Sorry, Shelly," George said, quickly. "I didn't mean to hurt you, really." He held his hand out to Sheldon.

Sheldon wrapped his arms around his body and shook his head.

"I will not apologize because I didn't do anything wrong," Sheldon said tightly. "Goodnight, Mike, Missy, George."

He let his arms drop and turned to leave the room.

Meemaw caught Sheldon by the elbow as he passed and gave him a sharp smack on his bottom before turning to leave with George.

Sheldon turned back toward her in shock, but said nothing as he watched her leave. He turned and fled to his room.

* * *

He had brushed his teeth and put on his pajamas and was just about to get into bed when Mary entered the room, standing just inside the doorway, with her arms crossed.

He looked at her then ducked his head, crossing his arms as well.

"Are you going to spank me?" he asked, unable to look her in the eye.

"Maybe I should," Mary said, stepping forward into the room. She pulled back the covers. "Get in your bed."

Sheldon obeyed her, still keeping his eyes down.

"I'm sorry, Mommy," he said quietly, as he scooted down into the bed. He studied her hands as she pulled the covers up to his chest.

"Oh, Shelly," she said with a sigh, her voice softening. "What is going on with you, honey? I know George was being…"

"Rude? Obnoxious? Stupid?" Sheldon put in.

"George was being his usual pestering self," Mary finished. "I know it's not right, but you've never let him bother you this much. You learned to ignore him a long time ago."

"I was in no mood to put up with him tonight, Mom," he said impatiently.

"From what I saw this evening, you were in no mood to deal with anyone. You've been out of sorts all day," Mary admonished. "You had your family here to see you and you barely spoke two words to anyone. Not even your Meemaw."

"Meemaw just wanted to talk about the baby. I had no interest in that," Sheldon returned. "Besides, I didn't want to have a big family dinner in the first place. Nobody ever asks me what I want."

"Sheldon," Mary replied. "It's not always about what you want. I wanted to see my family all together."

Sheldon looked away from her.

"I think you need to tell me why you left Pasadena so suddenly and what's going on," she pressed.

He sighed and grabbed a handful of his blankets to squeeze in his clenching hands.

"I told you that Leonard and Penny got engaged. Well, he told me that he wanted to live with Penny, but not with me."

"I see," Mary put in.

"And when I went to talk to Amy about it, she started to encourage me to try living alone, but then she suggested that she might move in with me," Sheldon continued, his voice rising in indignation.

Mary quirked an eyebrow at him.

"And then I went to try to relax at Stuart's comic book store, but there had been a fire and everything was ruined."

"Oh, my!" Mary replied.

"Yes!" Sheldon confirmed. "I couldn't find refuge anywhere, so I left. I thought that if I just got away from everything, that I would feel better. I'd be able to think about it all and then figure out what I should do."

"Did it help?" she asked in that insistent tone he recognized all too well.

He took a deep breath and continued.

"I thought that taking the train would help. Trains have schedules. They stop and start according to a schedule and they only stop at specific places along a fixed route. There's really nothing unpredictable about them…"

"But…" she prompted.

"But the other passengers are unpredictable. Most of them don't appreciate how special a train ride is, and most of them don't want to know. At first I was excited just to be on the train, riding for days with no work and no worries about roommates or anything else. I just wanted to think about trains, but when I wanted to share my train knowledge, no would listen to me. It was lonely. And then I got tired of sleeping on the train or in hotel rooms with no one to talk to."

"But I know you were checking in with your friends," she put in.

"Yes, and that helped," he continued. "But I just wanted a familiar bed and to feel safe and to be where someone wants to see me."

"Well, as much as I love to have you visit, sweetheart," she replied, "don't you think it would have been simpler to just go back to Pasadena?"

"Back to chaos?" he asked with agitation. "My future at the university is still undecided, Leonard doesn't want to be my roommate anymore, Amy wants to move in with me, and my favorite escape, Stuart's store, has burned down. I don't see how I can find any comfort going back to the very things that were making life impossible for me."

"Is that why you were talking to Dean Bates at Rice?" Mary asked. "Do you think you'll move out here and change universities?

"I was thinking about it," he said, studying the clump of blankets in his hands. "But that would mean leaving Amy behind. They want me at Rice, but Amy…she…I don't…" He took a deep breath.

"It would be more change."

"Honey, you know that things always change, eventually. Nothing stays the same forever."

"But I hate it!" he pressed, his voice thickening. "I don't know what to do. I don't know what I want. I just know that I want everything to go back to the way it was!" He turned away from her buried his face in the pillow.

"Oh, honey," she soothed, patting his back for a few minutes while he continued to ignore her.

She finally got up to leave, reaching out to switch off the light.

"Mommy," Sheldon called in a small voice, twisting a bit of the blanket in his nervous fingers.

Mary turned back to him from the doorway. "Yes, Shelly?"

He tortured the wad of blanket a moment before speaking again.

"Is there something wrong with me?"

Mary returned to sit beside him and took his hand in her own.

"No, baby," she assured him. "You're special, but there's nothing wrong with you."

"But I'm not normal," he objected, turning onto his side toward her.

"Remember, honey," she said, running a hand along his arm, "the doctor said that you're okay. It's really more a matter of…quirks." She smiled at him.

"But I have a lot of these so-called quirks, don't I? My friends complain and sometimes make fun of my charts and rules and…and phobias."

"They're still your friends, aren't they, baby? They help you. They make allowances for you. You know that."

"Leonard didn't make any allowances for me when it came to changing our living arrangements," Sheldon blurted angrily. "He knows I hate change, but he wants to change everything!"

"Now, Shelly," Mary said, her voice quietly stern. "You knew that once he and Penny got engaged that things were eventually going to change. They'll get married and start their own home. That's what people do."

"But I had already worked out a way for Penny to stay with him in our apartment on a gradually increasing scale. I don't know why he couldn't appreciate the logic of it."

"Honey, you know that's not what Leonard and Penny would want," Mary replied, suppressing a chuckle. "They love each other and want to be together."

"I thought you didn't approve of couples 'living in sin', as you put it," Sheldon objected.

"Well, I don't, generally, it's true," she said. "But Leonard is not my son and Penny is not my daughter. Whether or not they wait until they're married doesn't change the fact that they're going to eventually live together apart from you."

"I don't want Leonard to leave me," Sheldon said petulantly, his lower lip protruding into a pout.

"Honey," Mary said firmly, "you know that's not something you have control over."

"Not something over which I have control," Sheldon corrected automatically.

"Sheldon," Mary warned.

"I don't want things to change," he repeated.

"Sweetheart," Mary began quietly. "You've changed a lot in the last few years. You have a girlfriend now."

"That's different," he interrupted.

"How?"

"It's Amy," he replied quietly.

Mary nodded silently, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

"Mom, why doesn't anyone understand how I feel?"

"Do you understand how they feel?" she countered.

He scowled at her.

"Are you taking their side?" Sheldon asked petulantly. "Why isn't anyone on my side? You're not on my side. Leonard's not on my side. Even Amy wasn't on my side."

Mary sighed and placed her hand on Sheldon's now heaving chest.

"Honey, you're getting worked up over something you can't control," she reminded him.

"I don't care!" he grated, his breath hitching into sobs. "I can't figure it out. I can't fix it. I…I can't…"

Mary reached down and pulled him up into her arms and rocked him a bit, letting him release his frustrations.

Sheldon buried his face in her shoulder, sobbing like a child.

* * *

Sheldon awoke to the smell of coffee and bacon, sunlight streaming in through his window. He took a deep breath and stretched contentedly. He had no appointments and no sense of urgency this morning. He had cried long and hard last night and his head was stuffy, but he somehow felt better, like a malfunctioning machine whose reset button had been pressed. He sat up and took a tissue from the nightstand to blow his nose, finally making his way to the bathroom.

He was very pleased that he was able to move his bowels right on schedule and it seemed that at least his body was getting back to normal. As he washed his hands, he studied his bearded face in the mirror.

It was time. He rummaged in his shaving kit and squirted shaving cream into his hand.

* * *

"Good morning, Mother," Sheldon said in a chipper voice as he entered the kitchen. "What's for breakfast this morning?"

"Well, it's Tuesday," Mary replied, her back to him as she worked at the stove. "So I made French toast. Could you get the butter and syrup from the fridge?" She turned toward him with a plate of French toast.

"Oh! You shaved your beard!" she exclaimed.

Sheldon nodded as he moved toward the fridge, hoping she wouldn't make a big deal of it. He quickly joined her and didn't even flinch when she made him join her in praying before they ate.

"So," Mary began, spreading her napkin on her lap, "what are your plans for today?"

"Well, Mother," he began, "I was wondering if you'd be able to take me down to the seawall today. There's something I want to buy and I think one of those tourist shops would be the best place to look for it."

She smiled at him in bemusement.

"Sure, honey, I can do that."

She studied him for a moment and he ducked his head at her scrutiny.

"Are you feeling better, this morning, honey?" she asked. "You had a hard night last night."

"I'm fine, Mom," he replied, quickly stuffing a large bite of food in his mouth.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Sheldon and Mary spent the late morning strolling through the shops along the seawall until Sheldon found the exact item he wanted.

In one of the shops, Mary stopped in front of a rack of t-shirts.

"Shelly, would you like one of these?" She pulled a shirt from the rack and held it up to him.

He frowned in confusion at the shirt. It had the word "Galveston" emblazoned across the chest.

"I'm not a tourist, Mother," he said simply.

"Well, I thought I'd buy one for you and a matching one for Amy," she replied. She held up a smaller size as well.

"I suppose…" he answered. He couldn't imagine a moment where he would want to wear matching shirts with Amy—unless they were matching "The Flash" t-shirts, which he knew Amy would never wear. But he didn't want to disappoint his mother.

Mary smiled broadly at him and made her way to the cashier.

* * *

Sheldon spent the afternoon packing and organizing his things while his mother went to bring Meemaw over for one last dinner together. He spent a few moments working on his special purchases and putting them in the gift bag his mother had given him. After loading them carefully into the bag, he placed the bag into one corner of his duffel, cushioning it in the t-shirts his mother had purchased.

* * *

"Shelly," Mary called, from the dining room. "Dinner's ready, sweetie."

Sheldon entered the dining room and paused.

"Meemaw," he began, studying his fingers. "I want to apologize for my behavior last night."

"Thank you, Moonpie," she replied, stepping up to embrace him. "Apology accepted."

He inhaled deeply as her soft perfume reached his nose. "I love you, Meemaw," he whispered.

She kissed his cheek and he straightened up.

"Look what your mama made for dinner," she said, indicating the food on the table.

"Spaghetti with little pieces of hotdog cut up in it!" he exclaimed.

"Thank you, Mommy!" He surprised his mother with a hug.

"Well," Mary said happily, "you seem to be in a good mood tonight."

"I am," Sheldon replied quietly. He blushed as they stared at him, apparently expecting him to elaborate. "I'm fine," he added at last, pulling out his chair to try to prompt them all to sit down.

To Sheldon's relief, both his mother and grandmother seemed to understand that he didn't want to talk about his feelings, so they regaled him with old family stories, told in Meemaw's familiar rhythm. Her voice was as soothing as a lullaby and the evening served to further ease his mind.

When they at last said their goodnights, Sheldon took a moment with his grandmother.

"Meemaw," he began. "I'll be leaving tomorrow. I have to be at the train station in Houston in the evening. I don't want to have a big scene there, so I'll say goodbye to you here, if you don't mind."

"Oh, Shelly," she said gently, pulling him down into a squeezing embrace. "I miss you already, my Moonpie." She pressed several kisses onto his cheek before finally releasing him.

"Goodnight, Meemaw," he said quietly, surprised at the tightness in his throat.

He felt like such a baby, but since none of his friends were here, he didn't care. Meemaw and his mother were the two people on earth from whom he didn't have to hide his feelings. Even when he tried, they always seemed to know what he was hiding, anyway.

His mother left to take Meemaw home and Sheldon went back to his room and pulled out his phone.

"Hello, Sheldon!" Amy gushed as she answered the phone. "Are you still at your mother's house?"

"Hello, Amy," he answered pleasantly. "Yes, I'm still here. I just wanted to let you know that I'll be leaving Houston tomorrow evening. My mother and I are going to spend the day in the city and then my train leaves at 6:55pm."

"Oh, okay," Amy replied. "Have you had a good visit with your mother?"

"Um…" Sheldon hedged, not willing to go into all the details of Monday's events. "More or less," he said at last. "Today was really nice."

"How are you feeling about coming home?" she asked warily.

"Well," Sheldon began, "I did ask about the physics program here at Rice, where I got my undergraduate degree, and they were eager to have me back."

"Oh?" Amy's voice was barely audible.

"Yes, but you should know that I asked about their neurobiology program and there was not an opening for you," he added.

"Why would I want to know that?" Amy asked.

"You should know," he replied, "because I won't be coming to Rice. I remembered what you said, when I was in Chicago and I didn't want to come to Rice without you."

He pressed his lips together and waited for her to reply, but there was only silence on the other side.

"Amy?" he said at last. "Are you still there?"

"Yes, Sheldon," she whispered. "I'm still here." Her sniffle wasn't completely muffled. "I'm glad to hear you won't be…that you'll come back to CalTech."

"Yes," he replied a little more glumly. "But it means I won't be able to change my field of study."

"You never know, Sheldon," she said more brightly. "Things might change."

"Don't say that word, Amy," Sheldon said absently.

She chuckled at him, then continued.

"Sheldon, I'm sorry, but I have to go."

"Why?" he asked, frowning at his knees.

"I've got a staff function to attend tonight. I've got to leave in just a few minutes."

"Oh." He was suddenly exhausted. "I guess I should go, too. I'm a little tired and I have a long day tomorrow…"

"Will you call me from the train?"

"I'll be in early Friday morning," he replied. "Don't worry about me. I'll call you when I get back to Pasadena."

"Oh," she replied simply. "Well, I guess I'll see you Friday morning."

"Okay," he said. "Um…well…goodnight, Amy."

"Goodnight, Sheldon. Sweet dreams."

She ended the call and he looked around his bedroom.


	9. Chapter 9

Sheldon stepped down from the train, making his way wearily toward the early morning sun streaming in at the exit, looking for the bus stop.

Suddenly he saw a familiar form silhouetted in the sunshine. A shocking flush coursed through his body as he realized who it was.

"Amy?"

"Welcome home, Sheldon," she said, her wide smile coming into view as she stepped closer.

"Amy, what are you doing here?" he said, a surprised smile breaking across his face. His heart was suddenly pounding in his chest.

"When you called to tell me you were leaving Houston and that you'd be home today, I went online and looked up the train schedule," she explained. "I knew you had to be on the Sunset Limited, so I checked the arrival time and, well, here I am!"

"Amy," he said quietly, "It's good to see you." He wrapped his arms around his body.

"It's good to see you, too, Sheldon," she replied, clasping her hands together. "My car's right outside."

As they walked out toward her car, she continued.

"Did you know that the Sunset Limited is the descendent of the former Southern Pacific Railway's service dating to 1894? And today it is the oldest 'named' train in continuous operation."

"I know!" Sheldon enthused. "Did you know that the name originated with a predecessor railroad—the Galveston, Harrisburg and San Antonio Railway, known as the Sunset Route as early as 1874?"

"I know!" Amy replied.

"Isn't this fun, Amy?" He smiled happily at her as he loaded his things into the back seat.

She smiled and nodded as she got in the car.

He got in beside her and buckled up, turning to her as she started the engine.

"I can tell you all about the Coast Starlight, and the California Zephyr, and the City of New Orleans!"

"Yes, you could," she replied, pulling out into traffic. "Or you could tell me about that night in New Orleans."

"Or I could tell you about the University of Chicago and their physics program," he countered.

"Tell me about the trains," she said.

"Great!" he began, pulling his phone from his pants pocket. "I have pictures and everything."

As Sheldon launched into a description of each of the trains, he realized they weren't headed to Los Robles Avenue.

"Amy, where are we going? To your place?"

"I thought I'd fix you some breakfast, Sheldon. Today is Friday, so…scrambled eggs and toast?"

"Yes, scrambled eggs and toast," he replied quietly. He quickly thought through the implications. He'd never had a breakfast date before. She'd never made him breakfast before. But this could be a perfect opportunity. He wanted a few minutes alone with her anyway, apart from Leonard and Penny and the others.

"Finish telling me about the trains, Sheldon," she said simply, reaching over to pat him on the knee.

He started up again, slowly at first, as he tried to gauge her sincerity, but soon his enthusiasm for the subject took over and he was talking quickly, spilling facts about the history, size, speed and construction of each of the trains in turn.

* * *

As they reached Amy's door, Sheldon finally ran out of steam. He suddenly realized he didn't want to talk about the trains anymore.

"Why don't you relax on the couch while I get the eggs started," Amy said simply as she tossed her purse on the chair by the door.

"Oh, I can help you," he offered, setting his shoulder bag and jacket on the chair as well. "Would you like me make some tea? Do you have orange juice with no pulp? I can certainly get the toast started—even though you don't have a Cylon toaster. Cylon toast is the best."

"Sheldon," she chided as she got the eggs and other items from the fridge, "Cylon toast tastes exactly the same as regular toast."

"Disagree," he said, getting juice glasses and plates from the cabinet. "But it's a moot point, since you don't have a Cylon toaster."

She chuckled as she fished a whisk out of a drawer. "Sheldon, would you please reach into that cabinet on the right and hand me the small, black mixing bowl."

"Of course." He handed her the bowl and set about loading her regular toaster, setting the table while it worked.

They set about making breakfast together, moving easily about her familiar kitchen, as Amy caught him up on what everyone had been up to while he was gone.

After they ate, they moved over to the couch to have some tea.

"Amy," Sheldon began shyly, "I have something for you."

She smiled in bemusement as he stood to retrieve his bag.

"Sheldon, did you buy me a gift? I thought you didn't like gift-giving."

"I don't," he replied, sitting down again. He first pulled out the t-shirt from Galveston. "My mother bought this for you. She bought one for me, too."

"Matching t-shirts?" Amy smiled as she took the shirt from him and held it up. "How did she know my size?"

"I picked the size." Sheldon said nonchalantly. "For the record, I will not be wearing my shirt at the same time as you. We're not twins."

"But you are my boyfriend…" Amy said, raising an eyebrow at him.

Sheldon sighed and pulled the gift bag from his duffel.

"This is from me. I…I…Um…Here." He quit trying to talk and simply handed her the gift bag.

She reached into the bag and retrieved the small tissue-wrapped gifts. Each one was wrapped in a different color and as she set them on the coffee table, Sheldon rearranged them into a specific order.

"I want you to open them this way—starting with this one," he said quietly.

She unwrapped the first gift.

"A monkey!" she exclaimed softly, a wide smile blossoming on her face. "Oh, look, it says 'Welcome to Emeryville' on its tiny shirt." She looked at Sheldon with a questioning tilt of her head.

"I bought it at the hotel that first night of my trip," he explained. "I saw it in the window of the hotel's gift shop and I knew I wanted to give it to you. Open the others!"

Next was a fairly realistic chimpanzee on a tiny pedestal, with the words "Denver Zoo" on the front.

Then came a keychain with a small, square-shaped, stylized rubber monkey with a small medallion that said, "Chicago".

Next was a wooden monkey playing a trumpet. It wore a banner across its chest that said, "Laissez les bons temps rouler."

Lastly was a monkey fashioned out of seashells with the words "Galveston, Texas" inscribed on its base.

"Oh, Sheldon," she said softly. "These are so sweet!" She wiped at her eyes.

"I, um…" he began uncertainly, "I missed you…and…when I bought them, it was almost like…like having you there with me."

She suddenly had her arms wrapped around him and he instinctively tensed up at the feeling of her body pressed against his.

But then he felt his universe expanding.

He wanted to hug her back.

He extricated his arms from where they were trapped on his lap and he returned her embrace. He took a deep breath and relaxed into her arms, feeling the small hitching of her breath as she sniffed back her tears.

At last they sat back from each other, she wiping at the tears welling in her eyes, he, smoothing imaginary wrinkles from his trouser legs as he willed his flushed face to return to normal.

Sheldon cleared his throat and looked up at her.

"Amy," he began, his voice faltering a little.

"Yes?" she replied, looking up happily at him.

"We…didn't get to have our date night this past Thursday."

"I know."

"Um, do we want to…make it up somehow?" he asked, studying her hair and her features, but managing to avoid looking her in the eye.

"Well, pretty soon it will be time for our June Date Night," she pointed out. "I suppose we could have two date nights this month…"

"I don't want to wait another week," Sheldon blurted out.

Amy gaped at his outburst, raising a questioning eyebrow, but she said nothing.

"I propose we simply make up the date…by…by…" Sheldon took a deep breath and lowered his gaze. "By kissing," he squeaked out.

"Um…okay," Amy breathed. "How…?"

Sheldon suddenly leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers, his heart pounding and warmth spreading through his body at the strange yet familiar feeling of her lips. He took hold of her upper arms to give himself better leverage and he felt her hands clasp his arms at the elbow.

They kissed for a long moment, then sat back from each other.

Sheldon swallowed hard and took a deep breath before he dared to look up at Amy.

"I…I don't…I don't want to change our dating schedule," he finally managed to stammer out. "I still want to take things slowly."

"Of course, Sheldon," Amy replied breathlessly.

Suddenly his lonely night in the hotel room in New Orleans came flooding into Sheldon's mind.

"Um, I think maybe I should go home now," he said, looking down at his lap again. "I need to go home and take a shower," he added hastily.

"Okay," Amy replied, a puzzled frown crossing her brow at the abrupt ending of their moment.

They both rose to gather their things and went down to her car. As they made the trip back to Los Robles Avenue, Sheldon returned to his talk of trains and scenery, trying desperately to fill the air with conversation that had nothing to do with the feelings running rampant in his chest.

Sheldon could feel the burning flush still present on his cheeks and he didn't trust his voice. Yet he had missed her so much that he wanted to stay with her. He began to twist his mental Rubik's Cube again. He wanted to talk with her. He didn't want to talk about his confused feelings. He wanted to spend time with her. He was afraid to admit how he was feeling.

After what seemed to Sheldon like an eternity, they finally pulled up in front of his building and made their way inside, Sheldon at last falling silent.

As they started up the stairs, he slipped his left hand into her right hand. They climbed in silence for the first few floors.

"Amy," he began at last.

"Yes, Sheldon?"

"I'm sick of trains."


End file.
